


Dangerous Animals

by a_queen_of_wolves



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Slow Burn, i dunno, still unsure about all of the characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:30:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_queen_of_wolves/pseuds/a_queen_of_wolves
Summary: Lions and wolves and dragons always seem to leave behind destruction wherever they meet.Basically I don't know what I'm doing and I'm still not sure if this is a Jonsa or Sanrion fic, but it takes place in the beginning of season 7, where Sansa meets Daenerys instead of Jon.UPDATE: so this is a sanrion fic. you guys should totally let me know if you want me to write other ship fics, cuz i ship a crap ton of people with sansa





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a prologue, sorry it's so short! Feedback and advice are always helpful and welcome.

“You are Winterfell’s king, you cannot go,” Sansa insisted, “your people named you king, you must remain loyal to them.”

“And who would you suggest I send instead?” Jon responded, his eyes dark. “She has dragonglass, Sansa, and the dead are coming.”

“Send Ser Davos, he can represent your interests, while ensuring that the north’s king remains in the north,” she pleaded. She would not, could not let what happened to Robb happen to Jon. “Send someone, anyone else. Your people need you, you’ve said it yourself, the dead are coming. The north needs someone to turn to, someone they chose. Don’t let what Robb happen to you, stay in Winterfell, prepare for winter.” They had fought with these exact words before, and she presumed they would fight yet again. Jon didn’t understand, there was so much Ned Stark in him. He’d never been south, never been to a place where words were never as they seemed. Jon had his sword and his bluntness, and in the south they had their false courtesies and armor woven together by titles. 

“She is a queen, she must speak to a king. Sending Ser Davos, the Onion Knight, would ruin any chance of obtaining the dragonglass on Dragonstone,” Jon’s voice grew more and more irritated, and in the candlelit room, his eyes danced with soft yellow lights, making Ned Stark’s son seem far more dangerous than the man the north had elected. “If we have any chance, any chance at all of killing the dead, then we need dragonglass, and we need an alliance. I cannot send a lord of some strange Northern house to the woman who claims to be the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, with three dragons by her side to plead that a bedtime story is coming to kill us all. Any man I send will be disregarded, for her council is made up of Martells and Tyrells and Lannisters, those who have never fought for the north, never died for the north.” 

“Send me.”

“What?”

Sansa sighed, fidgeting with the sleeve of her dress. It was a nasty habit she’d broken when she was younger, but picked up again in King’s Landing. “Send me. You’re right, the Southern houses have had no part in Northern struggles and conflict. But I’ve spent years in King’s Landing, I know some of the Dragon Queen’s council members, and they may listen to the daughter of Ned Stark. I may convince this foreign queen, and if she kills me, well, the North won’t lose its King.” The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. The very idea of going any closer to King’s Landing made Sansa want to vomit, and she did not revel in the idea of encountering Lord Varys and Lady Olenna again. The moment she and Jon had reclaimed Winterfell she had vowed to never leave it. She had spent far too much of her childhood hating the place she grew up, waiting to leave the cold castle for the warm city of King’s Landing. Winterfell was her home, and Sansa did not want to ever give it up again. But the dead were coming, and Cersei would not rest until Sansa was dead. The North needed allies, and Daenerys Targaryen was their single hope. Daenerys Targaryen, and Tyrion Lannister. 

Jon placed his hand on Sansa’s arm, and she fought the urge to flinch, as she’d grown so used to the pain that came along with a man’s touch. “I vowed to protect you, and you swore you’d never go South again. You have no more friends than I do in Dragonstone, and the death of Ned Stark’s daughter would eradicate the Stark line.”

Sansa looked her brother in the eye, watching as the soft light of the candles danced in his eyes. “You have Stark blood Jon, and as king you could legitimize yourself if anything were to happen. And I do have one friend on the Dragon Queen’s council.” Sansa thought back to her shortly lived marriage to Tyrion Lannister. Despite his Lannister blood, the man had always been kind to her, and he had vowed to never hurt her. He’d done everything in his power to protect her, as much as anyone could. “I’ve told you already, Tyrion Lannister was kind to me, and I believe he would do everything in his power to protect me from harm. I’ll have Brienne to protect me, as well as other men loyal to the North.” She lifted her chin, daring Jon to disagree with her. She was right, and she knew he knew that. 

“Sansa, I-” he didn’t want her to leave. The pain was obvious on his face. Sansa was the last surviving daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. Her eyes were ice and her looks were cold. She was Winterfell. She was the bitterness of winter, the iciness that bit at people’s skins and ate away at their very being. 

But Jon was also winter. And he was the child of winter that the Northerners chose. So although both children of the winter should remain in the winter, the girl with ice in her veins and frost in her heart needed to leave. 

“Jon,” there was a pleading look in her eyes, the same look that had appeared when she had asked him to take back Winterfell with her. “Please, let me do this.” She needed to do something. 

He knew she was right, but Jon could not seem to form the words. As much as his sister denied his protection, he could not help but try to keep Winterfell’s daughter safe from the cruel world. He had yet to accept that Sansa had seen just as much of the cruel world as he had, if not more. 

The silence was all Sansa needed.

“Then it’s decided. I will leave tomorrow, along with five Northmen and Brienne to accompany me on my journey to meet this Daenerys Targaryen.


	2. Chapter 1

It had been weeks since he had sent that letter. The suspicions and fears that Tyrion had hidden in the back of his mind had been given ample time to creep forward, consuming his thoughts. They _needed_ the North, they _needed_ the support of Winterfell. The vast and seemingly empty wasteland was bigger than the six other kingdoms of Westeros combined, and for what it lacked in population it made up for in land area. Renly Baratheon had failed to obtain the North, he was now dead. Stannis Baratheon had failed to obtain the North, he was now dead. Joffrey had failed to obtain the North, he was now dead. Even his nephew Tommen had never truly obtained the North’s allegiance, and he too, was dead.

His Queen had seemed far less concerned with the Northern cause than he had hoped, barely taking the time to even acknowledge Jon Snow’s crown. Daenerys seemed to understand that another ruler was a threat, but denied the essentiality of Westeros’ coldest kingdom. However, the fear that Jon Snow would refuse to travel to Dragonstone had become more and more pressing, and with the North’s absence came his Queen’s impatience.

She had three full-grown dragons, an army of Unsullied, an army of Dothraki, and the support of Highgarden and Dorne. What more could she need? The world was at her disposal, and he knew that she was tired of waiting, tired of waiting for alliances that never helped her, tired of waiting for men to respect her, _tired_ of fighting for her throne. But he also knew his Queen was kind and soft at times, though she vehemently denied it, and much to Olenna Tyrell’s dismay, she did not want to be responsible for the deaths of thousands of people, innocent or otherwise. So she waited, heeding her Hand’s advice, waiting for the King in the North to come to her, and pledge his allegiance to her cause. But the King in the North had not come, nor did he respond to Tyrion’s raven.

Perhaps it had been lost, that was Tyrion’s hope at least, though he doubted it had much merit. The far more likely, and terrifying truth was that Winterfell had received the raven, had received Daenerys’ commands to swear allegiance to her cause, and simply ignored her request. The North stretched hundreds of miles, and winter was coming. What was the Dragon Queen to do? Take back King’s Landing and take her throne, or march North with no supplies, no allies, and no shelter for the winter? The North remained safe, but Tyrion doubted very much that the Northern lords and ladies held any true fear for his Queen’s dragons. Dragons hadn’t been seen for thousands of years, rulers trying, and failing, to retake the North had been seen in the past couple of years. But Tyrion knew, he knew that if his Queen ignored the North, and reclaimed her throne that in five, ten years she would march North, after winter was over, and this time she would not be the kind woman that conquered the Slaver Cities, this would be the merciless queen whose kingdom had committed treason. It would be bloodshed.

He didn’t want that. He _liked_ Jon Snow, he liked the Northmen, or what remained of them. They were a naive group of people, ignorant to Southern politics, but quite endearing, with their honor and loyalty and such. He didn’t want the North to die, he didn’t want what had happened to the Starks to happen to the rest of the houses. Catelyn Stark, dead. Ned Stark, dead. Robb Stark, dead. Brandon Stark, dead. Rickon Stark, dead. Arya Stark, presumably dead, as there had been no reports of her since before her father’s execution. And Sansa Stark. His child bride, his wife, if only for a short amount of time. Varys had heard reports of her marriage to the Bolton bastard, yet he had prayed they were not true. Tyrion had remained in a blissful state, that was until Theon and his sister Yara Greyjoy pledged their allegiance to Daenerys. He had confirmed Varys’ reports, and though he had not elaborated, it was clear that the trauma he had endured matched Sansa’s, if only in different ways. Theon had no reports of what had happened to her once he had left her under the care of Brienne of Tarth however. Varys had no reports either. Tyrion hoped that she had reached the Night’s Watch, reached her half-brother Jon Snow, for he knew that Brienne of Tarth was an excellent swordswoman.

Sansa wasn’t like the other Northerners, she wasn’t even like her mother, in most senses. No, Sansa Stark was one of the most intelligent people he’d ever met at court, for she knew how to play her part better than anyone he’d ever seen. She knew she was thought of as a pawn, and pawns are not meant to think for themselves. So she didn’t, at least externally. She pretended to only observe what was shown to her, playing the part of a naive girl turned broken plaything perfectly. She almost reminded him of Cersei, with her ability to hide all of her dangerous, deadly emotions, but not quite. Sansa Stark possessed one quality that Cersei had never displayed, at least externally. Sansa Stark was _kind_. She had a good heart. Throughout their marriage, as short lived as it was, she never displayed any hatred towards Tyrion. Hatred to his family name? Yes. But she never seemed to resent Tyrion himself, despite her every right to. She didn’t even seem to enjoy Joffrey’s death, though he had not necessarily been focusing on his wife at the moment. Sansa Stark had a good heart and iron skin, and for that, Tyrion Lannister prayed that she had been reunited with Jon Snow and was once again within the walls of Winterfell.

Footsteps entered the near empty council room, and Tyrion was pulled from his thoughts. “My Queen,” Tyrion stood and bowed, noting Daenerys’ facial expressions. She often tried to conceal her emotions, to play the game, and time and time again she failed. She wore her emotions on her sleeve, a dangerous trait for any ruler. Varys followed her, his hands tucked into his sleeves and head bowed. Behind him, walked Ellaria Sand, Yara Greyjoy, Olenna Tyrell, and Theon Greyjoy.

“A raven has arrived from Winterfell. It does not contain what you or I hoped,” Daenerys informed him, yet again failing to mask her anger, her voice shaking.

He held out his hand, “may I?” The various council members seated themselves accordingly, eager to hear the contents of the letter. Tyrion noted the broken grey seal of the direwolf, further indicating Jon Snow’s involvement.

_Lord Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the Queen,_

_I am glad to hear you are alive, as no one in Westeros had heard from you since your infamous escape during your trial for regicide. I do hope the times have been kind to you. Although I greatly appreciate your Queen’s generous invitation for me to swear allegiance to her at Dragonstone, I regret to inform you that my council and I have decided that it is not in the North’s best interest for me to travel South at the time. Despite this, the North and I are extremely anxious to negotiate peace between us and Daenerys Targaryen, and therefore I will be sending a representative. I am praying this letter gets to you before my sister, Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, arrives at Dragonstone, as I hope you can make proper accommodations for her and her guards._

Tyrion’s heart skipped a beat. Sansa was alive. He noticed Theon’s head rising as well, a look of pure joy in his eyes. Olenna Tyrell, Ellaria Sand, Yara Greyjoy, and Varys seemed uninterested. Daenerys was seething. “Go on.”

_I send my apologies to your Queen, once again, and hope she is willing to understand that the North’s interests should be her interests, as it is the largest of the Seven Kingdoms she claims birthright to. Jon Snow, King in the North_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So writing from Tyrion's perspective was far more difficult than I imagined it would be, I feel like I can get into Sansa's head far more easily. There was originally a lot more to this chapter, but I've split it into two parts after realizing the length. Again, feedback is always welcome and I hope you guys enjoy.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still a Tyrion PoV, he discusses Sansa Stark with Daenerys.

Tyrion smiled, keeping his head down. Of course the King in the North would not abandon Winterfell, the previous one had made that mistake, and Northerners were not about to repeat history. The smile disappeared from his lips almost instantaneously when he looked up. He had seen Daenerys this upset very few times, and the hatred in her eyes nearly made him want to look away. 

“This man, this _boy_ calls himself King in the North, and then refuses to even meet with his rightful Queen? He sends his _sister_ , the daughter of the traitor Ned Stark and a girl who was betrothed to the son of the Usurper Joffrey Baratheon? How dare he!” In the dim light Daenerys’ face appeared more like a skull than a young woman, with hollowed cheeks and eyes dancing with fire.

Olenna Tyrell shifted in her chair, leaning towards the young queen, “the girl is not of your concern, an uninteresting daughter of an uninteresting man, hear her out, then turn your focus to King’s Landing, to our real enemy, Cersei Lannister,” Ellaria Sand nodded in agreement, and Yara Greyjoy appeared as uncaring as before. Theon shifted in his chair and opened his mouth, ready to defend Sansa, but Tyrion beat him to it. 

“It was unrealistic for us to believe that Jon Snow would abandon his throne to meet the daughter of the man who burned his uncle and grandfather alive,” Daenerys opened her mouth to protest, but Tyrion continued, “Sansa Stark has a name, a title, and more control over the North than we could ever hope for, we must respect her for the North to respect us,” Tyrion leaned into the table, staring into his Queen’s eyes directly, “my father once told me that Sansa Stark was the key to the North, and this remains the case. There is a reason Jon Snow sent his sister in his place, and it is not because he intended to disrespect you, at least it is not the sole reason. Sansa grew up in King’s Landing, she understands how the game is played, and she will be determined to protect her home. We must appease her, and understand that she is the determining factor in King in the North’s allegiance to our cause. The uninteresting girl that you knew in King’s Landing, Lady Olenna, is the most important factor in our grab for the Iron Throne.”

Lady Olenna glanced at Daenerys and then at Tyrion, “I’ve met many Northmen during my time on this earth, and believe me when I say that they are a dreadfully loyal lotl. How would you be sure that the men would fight for you even if this bastard Jon Snow bends the knee? You have _dragons_ , you can win this war without the North. A dragon does not submit to anyone, not a lion, not a viper, not even a wolf.”

Although her eyes remained fiery, Daenerys shook her head, standing up to study the map of Westeros before her, “if I wish to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, then I must have Seven Kingdoms to support me. I will not murder thousands if I have another option, and the North is another option. What is Cersei meant to do when she has no one in her corner? Even lions can be caged, and the North will help me capture her. I will listen to Sansa Stark, I will consider she and her half-brother’s wishes, and I _will_ gain the North’s support,” Olenna Tyrell made no effort to hide her disapproval, but wisely remained silent. 

Ellaria Sand raised her head, finally seeming to care about the conversation set before her. “Lord Tyrion, if you do not mind me saying,” Tyrion was sure he was going to mind, “although your concern for the North is quite endearing, I must say that seems you are concerned with the well-being of Sansa Stark as much as the rightful queen of Westeros. I do recall that the two of you were married when Oberyn and I were in King’s Landing and you seemed quite enamored with her. I fear that your relationship with her may be clouding your best judgment.”

Daenerys glanced at Tyrion, an eyebrow raised. He cleared his throat, “It is no secret that my marriage to Sansa Stark was nothing more than a facade, and I believe that I have informed my Queen of this on several occasions,” he glanced at Daenerys, who simply nodded her head, confirming his defense. “As for a relationship with the girl, well, relationships are typically reliant on both parties, and I can promise you that Sansa Stark holds no kind feelings towards a man whose family murdered her own.”

Ellaria Sand raised her eyebrows, but withheld any further comments. Theon glanced at Tyrion, disbelief clear in eyes, but did not interrupt the silence. 

Daenerys glanced around the room, then nodded her head, “if there is nothing else to add, then this council is dismissed,” the lords and ladies began to rise, and Tyrion rose as well, leaving the letter on the cold stone table. “Lord Varys, please inform the servants to prepare chambers for Lady Stark and the rest of her guard, I want nothing but the best for the Lady of Winterfell,” his Queen ordered brusquely. 

Varys bowed his head, “at once your grace,” promptly walking out of the room in a swirl of silks, followed by Ellaria Sand, Olenna Tyrell, and the Greyjoy siblings. Tyrion went to leave as well, before a cold voice stopped him. 

“Not you Tyrion, you stay, we have further matters to discuss.”

Tyrion sat down again, not necessarily fearing the discussion he was about to have with his ever suspicious Queen, but certainly not looking forward to it either. “My Queen?”

Daenerys sat as well, and her facial expressions softened. Tyrion knew that she did want to care for the entire realm, not just the ones who had already sworn fealty to her, and for that he was grateful. The light that danced in her eyes were not gone, but had lessened, changed from raging fires to dancing candlelight, making his Queen look dangerous but not mad. “You’ve told me about this Jon Snow, well as much as you were able from your short period spent with him, and I know you were married to Sansa Stark, but what is she like? If I’m meant to appease her I want, no, I _need_ to know who I’ll be facing.”

What could Tyrion say? He loved his Queen, but he did not know Sansa Stark, he did not know what she wanted or to whom her loyalties truly belonged to. He knew she was beautiful, he knew she had suffered more than any person ever should, but he did not know the girl before King’s Landing and he did not know the girl after King’s Landing. He knew the girl Sansa Stark wanted him to know. “As you know, Sansa was betrothed to Joffrey Lannister, and after her father Ned Stark-”

Daenerys sniffed, “the Usurper’s friend and a traitor-”

“An _honorable_ man and a good father, from what I can tell, who was executed before Sansa’s eyes. After that she was a prisoner in King’s Landing, where my nephew enjoyed stripping her naked before court and commanding his King’s Guard to beat her. After Joffrey discarded Sansa, my father refused to let the girl go and forced both she and I into a marriage. Sansa submitted to her fate, but the marriage remained unconsummated at my demand. During this short period of time her brother, mother, and a majority of the Northern army were slaughtered at the Red Wedding, which although carried out by the Frey’s was orchestrated by Tywin Lannister himself. Then Joffrey and Margaery Tyrell’s short lived wedding occurred, and Sansa Stark fled during the feast itself, I’m assuming with the help of Lord Baelish, who was then engaged to her now deceased aunt, Lysa Arryn of House Tully. After that I may only tell you what I’ve heard at the lips of Lord Varys and Theon Greyjoy. She was married to Ramsay Snow, although he was legitimized by Tommen Lannister, calling himself Ramsay Bolton. I will not go into the details after that, but her marriage became far worse than ours ever was, as I’m sure you can imagine after meeting Theon. She and the Greyjoy boy escaped during the Battle for Winterfell, where she then encountered Brienne of Tarth and found refuge at Castle Black, where Jon Snow was Lord Commander. I do believe you know the rest from there.”

Daenerys smiled, “I do appreciate you telling me these things Tyrion, but I meant what does she want, what makes her qualified to serve as a diplomat in her brother’s place. The girl certainly has suffered, I will not dispute that, but she certainly does not sound like a politician.”

And you are not a politician either, my Queen, Tyrion thought to himself, but did not say it aloud. “I honestly am not quite sure,” he admitted, “she’s certainly smart, I could not deny that, but I haven’t seen her since she was a child, I don’t know how she’s changed, or if she has at all.”

Daenerys looked a bit annoyed, clearly shown through her face. Failing to play the politician once again, Tyrion thought. “You were married to this girl, can you not tell me anything at all? If I’m meant to build an alliance with her I need her to like me, at least to some degree.”

He wanted to scream, but I do not know this girl, I never did, and I doubt I ever will. Would you like me to tell you that she is a great beauty, with auburn hair and deep blue eyes that she can keep as expressionless as a corpse itself? Would you like me to tell you that when she smiles you feel like the most accomplished man in the world, for her smiles are so rare and so genuine that you just want to hug her and would do anything to produce one of those smiles again? Would you like to know that she loved stories and songs, but never told anyone, and hid the books she read in small hiding places in our chambers so that no one but herself would know that despite all that she had been through _hope_ still existed somewhere inside of her? What would his Queen like to know about Sansa Stark? 

“She likes lemon cakes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys liked this chapter and are liking this story! Sorry the update took me so long. I wasn't planning on doing two Tyrion chapters in a row, but I think it fits best with the story. As always, feedback and suggestions are always welcome!


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa reaches Dragonstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I was really stuck when writing it for no apparent reason, so I'd love feedback on it.

Dragonstone was a small island, undeniably beautiful, but cold and dark, with stone that seemed to swallow the sandy beaches beneath it. The castle itself was off putting, perhaps due to its ex-inhabitants, or perhaps due to its current. Stannis Baratheon and Daenerys Targaryen were not known to be the warmest of people. Sharp rocks jutted out of the sand, as though they were trying to attack the castle, or perhaps outsiders. Although she could not see much, Sansa was able to make out a group of people standing on the sand and she willed the rowboat to go faster. It had been a short voyage, though not a pleasant one and Sansa was not accustomed to the sea, and for that she had spent the days in her cabin trying not to vomit. She longed for stable ground nearly as much as she longed for Winterfell, for the place she had spent her life trying to return to or run from. 

As the boat grew closer and closer to shore, Sansa began to make out figures within the small group of people. Unsullied, their identities revealed through their dark leather armor and spears, Dothraki, with animal furs and beards that resembled the Wildlings, a woman dressed in dark leather, almost resembling the Unsullied’s armor, with curly black hair and dark skin, and Tyrion. Her estranged husband looked quite different from how she remembered him, his dark hair grown out with a matching dark beard. He too wore dark leather, and even from a distance she could see a silver pin glinting in the sun. The Hand of the Queen. The pin stood as a reminder to her, pulling her back to reality. She was not here to reunite with her past, she was here to persuade the Targaryen Queen, she was here to protect the North. 

Relief flooded Sansa’s body the moment her foot was able to make contact with solid, unmoving ground, and she allowed a small sigh to escape her body. The woman standing in almost all black eyed her, unsmiling, and the Unsullied and Dothraki remained expressionless. She was suddenly grateful for Brienne standing next to her, her hand on the hilt of her sword as always. She was also grateful for the dagger subtly tucked into the bodice of her dress, although she was sure if the time came it would be little help. Still, the cold steel pressed into her skin and gave her a feeling of control that she had lacked for so long, a feeling that she had longed for in King’s Landing, the Vale, and once again in Winterfell. The dagger was more reassuring, more reliable than even Brienne, and for that reason only it barely ever left her body. 

“Lady Stark,” Lord Tyrion greeted her warmly, but the distance in his voice was undeniable. 

Sansa tilted her head, making eye contact with the short man, “Lord Tyrion.”

The man opened his mouth, about to say something, but closed it within seconds. The unsmiling woman stepped forward, looking at Tyrion. He opened his mouth once again, “Lady Stark, this is Missandei, the Queen’s most trusted advisor. 

Shouldn’t that be you, Tyrion? Sansa thought to herself, but politely nodded at Missandei. “Lady Stark, Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen welcomes you to Dragonstone. She hopes that your stay will be comfortable, and to show good will she requests that all weapons be handed to her guards.” Sansa tensed, and Brienne’s grip tightened on her sword’s hilt. Missandei smiled cooly, clearly enjoying the Northmen’s discomfort, “our Queen has pledged that your weapons will be returned the moment you return to the North, but she must ensure the safety of herself and her people. 

Sansa turned towards Brienne and nodded her head. Brienne began undoing the strap around her waist, and the other Northmen followed in pursuit. The Queen’s soldiers swiftly took the swords and began walking away. 

“Lady Stark, my apologies, but our Queen has made it clear that  _ all _ weapons must be handed over, no matter the owner,” there was not a trace of apology in Missandei’s voice. “And if I’m not mistaken, you appear to have a dagger hidden in your dress.”

Sansa shifted uncomfortably, concealing the fact that she was quite impressed by this girl’s observance. Even Jon had not noticed the dagger for quite some time. Tyrion looked up at Missandei, and then back at Sansa. Pity was clear in his eyes, and the pity pushed Sansa to reach for the dagger. She gently pulled it out from her dress, her icy blue eyes not moving from Missandei’s brown ones. She did not need a man’s pity. “My apologies,” Sansa said as sweetly as she could muster, “I had forgotten about it.”

Tyrion knew that was a lie. Brienne knew that was a lie. Missandei knew that was a lie, but she smiled sweetly, matching Sansa’s equally forced facial expressions, “it’s quite alright.”

Sansa knew that she was putting off a character of someone she no longer was, and she was glad.  _ Good _ , they will not know my intentions, they will not know the person I am. 

“The Lady of Winterfell,” Tyrion mused, looking at Sansa as they began walking up the beach. 

Sansa smiled, looking down at the kind man, “the Hand of the Queen, that’s quite impressive, especially considering half of the continent thinks you dead.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?” Sansa looked straightforward, well still trying to slow her pace to remain beside Tyrion. Brienne walked behind them both, followed by the dozen other Northmen Jon had insisted accompany her. She had wanted less, arguing that the North needed them far more than she, but twelve had been the compromise.

“Think me to be dead?” Tyrion walked at a fast pace, looking up at her from time to time. 

Sansa’s mind raced. To be honest, she had given much thought to Tyrion since their departure. When Littlefinger had informed her of his escape, she was silently relieved, even more so knowing that he had escaped after killing Tywin Lannister himself. That man had held an immeasurable amount of power over her every move in King’s Landing, and yet unlike Tyrion, he had done nothing to stop or even lessen his grandson’s cruelties against her or any other subject. She had never once counted Tyrion for dead, though she had not a clue of his whereabouts either, at least until the raven arrived in Winterfell. “No,” she admitted, “I never thought you dead, nor would I have ever wished it upon you, Lord Tyrion.”

“Lady Stark, do forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I believe that we have often discussed that you should call me Tyrion,” His voice was quite offended, and Sansa was taken back to their many hours spent together in King’s Landing. Every time she had called him “my lord,” he had insisted that she stop, not putting the subject to rest until she complied. She could tell he was smiling though, and she allowed a ghost of a smile to grace her lips as well. 

“Well, if I am to call you Tyrion, then I insist that you call me Sansa, for it wouldn’t be proper for you to continue to use my title.”

“Ever the one for manners, Sansa,” Tyrion complained, although the smile did not leave his face. “Although, I’ve heard that abandoning your husband during a wedding may be something the septas look down upon, despite the fact that it truly was a miserable affair. 

A surge of guilt rushed through Sansa, though she knew Tyrion was japing. She had spent several nights regretting the fact that she had not helped Tyrion escape, though she had not an idea on how she would have done it. Still, she forced a small laugh, “my apologies, but I must admit the feast did have its moments.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Sansa,” she noted the way he lingered on her name, almost tenderly. “Without your escape you would not be alive-”

Just then, a talon the size of her face came near inches to her cheek, accompanied by a scream that sounded as though it was from one of Sansa’s worst nightmares. Wind that seemed to come from above blew through her hair, and she flinched, stumbling back a few inches. When she turned around, many of her men were on the ground, starting to recuperate, stumbling to their feet. Brienne looked just as startled as Sansa, and her hand was on her hip, reaching for the ghost of her sword. Above them flew three creatures larger than anything Sansa had ever seen. Dragons. She drew her breath, yes, she had known that the Dragon Queen had dragons, but it had still been a difficult idea to grasp. Sansa had never seen a dragon, and well seeing was not believing, she had never met someone who had seen a dragon either. Until today. 

Missandei turned to face Sansa and Tyrion, an amused smile on her lips, she was enjoying her fear. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Tyrion offered his hand to Sansa, who pretended she did not see it. He quickly withdrew it and sighed, “I would say you get used to them, but you never really do.”

She nodded, grateful that she had not fallen to the ground, but never took her eyes off of the dragons. She had dreamed about dragons as a girl, or more specifically, a Targaryen prince that would ride a dragon to save the fair maiden. Heroes and songs and stories were not real, but apparently dragons were. 

“If I may ask,” Brienne began to speak, clearly trying to cover her feelings of unease, “Lady Missandei, how did you come to Queen Daenerys’ service?”

“I am not a lady, but I do not mind your question. I was sold into slavery at a very young age, and became a translator for a master in the city of Astapor,” the woman continued to walk but answered Brienne’s question, allowing her voice to carry within the small group. “When Queen Daenerys came in search of Unsullied troops, she demanded that my master give her to me as a gift. She then sold one of her dragons to the Masters of Astapor in exchange for all of the Unsullied, including the boys still in training.” The idea of slavery had always been quite foreign to Sansa, as it had not existed in Westeros for hundreds of years, the fact that this Dragon Queen had been involved in slavery did not make her like Daenerys any more than she already did. “However, once our Queen gained control of the Unsullied forces, she used her dragon and the control of the Unsullied soldiers to kill the cruel masters, freeing the city of Astapor, as she has now done with all of the Slave Cities in Essos.”

So this woman is a leader, Sansa thought to herself. People do clearly want to follow her, and continue to follow her, but there are no slaves in Westeros, how can a liberator free people who are already free? 

The group reached the top of the passage leading to the castle, and the looming stone walls of Dragonstone seemed to swallow them whole. The doors began to open, and Sansa and her party were escorted inside by unsmiling and silent men, Unsullied. The entryway in Dragonstone was nearly bare, an indication that Daenerys did not intend for this to be a place where she and her people stayed for longer than necessary, adorned simply with the red and black banner of House Targaryen. There were few windows, so the room was dark, but certainly not empty, with groups of Dothraki and servants standing at the sides of the hall, hoping to catch a glimpse at the strange and foreign Northmen. 

Eyes followed Sansa as she walked, and she straightened her back, keeping her gaze directly on the dark doors set before her, an entrance to the throne room. The Northmen were escorted away before they reached the entrance, with Tyrion’s promise that they would be shown to their quarters. The doors slowly opened, again with the help of two Unsullied guards, and Brienne, Sansa, Tyrion, and Missandei made their way forward, into the presence of the most infamous girl in the Seven Kingdoms. 

The throne room was as dark as the entryway they had just exited, and just as bare. Missandei made her way forward to the immense slab of rock carved into a throne, stopping at the second step, before beginning to speak, just as icily as she had when Sansa had first stepped ashore, “you stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so first of all I've never had so many people read my writing before (as in I've had like three people read my writing before) so this is really really cool. Secondly, I'm sorry about the cliffhanger, but I'm trying to decide whether or not the next chapter should be Tyrion's POV or not. I'm sorry if Tyrion and Sansa's reunion was a bit anticlimactic, but I feel like Sansa would have a lot less emotion about it at first, especially compared to Tyrion. Lastly, I'd like to just give a warning that I think there's going to be Sansa/Dany drama at first, simply because of their opposing interests, but I really don't want to have the disgusting feud that existed in season 8. Feedback and comments are always welcome!


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Dany talk

Sansa examined the woman sitting before her. She held a small smile upon her face, in an attempt to look pleasant, but her eyes betrayed the facade. Her eyes were light green, nearly the color of Cersei’s, yet they did not hold the same power. While Cersei’s eyes looked as though they had frozen over, this Dragon Queen’s eyes showed nothing but hatred, the kind of hatred that danced in roaring fires, a wild sort of hatred that could not be controlled. A wildness that matched her dragons. Her hair was braided elaborately, and Sansa recalled one of the few bits of information she had retained about Dothraki: they wore their hair in braids, that is, until they lost a battle. It seemed that Daenerys Targaryen had never lost a battle, at least in her eyes. 

She had to admit, Daenerys Targaryen held herself with more poise and strength than she had ever seen in a king, including Jon. Despite the throne at Dragonstone being nearly the size of one of the dragons flying above the island, it did not consume the small girl. In fact, Daenerys Targaryen looked as if the throne had been built for her, and she commanded the presence of the vast room with ease. 

Sansa noted that both Tyrion and Missandei looked at Daenerys Targaryen the way the Northmen looked at Jon, with respect and adoration, but with a bit of fear in their eyes as well. The fear made her uncomfortable, as she was never sure what caused people to fear their leaders so greatly. Sansa had been told conflicting ideas throughout her life on how she should get people to follow her, both nobles and commoners alike. Her father had always said respect was the surest way to leadership. Cersei had insisted it was fear. Jon had used honor. But Sansa had always thought, and she believed she always would, that the closest way to the people’s hearts was through love. Daenerys Targaryen had seemed to have achieved this, at least from what she had observed so far. That made her more dangerous than Sansa had thought. 

“My Lady,” Brienne began to speak, and a new wave of anger flashed through Daenerys’ eyes, not ignoring the use of “my Lady.” Brienne continued, clearly not noting Daenerys’ anger, or perhaps not caring. “This is Princess Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell-” Sansa flinched internally. She had never once in her life been called “princess,” and had not been expecting it by any means. The title technically made sense, she supposed, but it sounded foreign attached to her name, and she was shocked as Brienne’s boldness. Brienne did not seem to share the sentiment, still speaking, “-and sister of the King in the North, Jon Snow.”

Sansa smiled, and conducted a small curtsey, worthy of a lady from a great house. “Lady Targaryen-” she continued to play Brienne’s game, deciding that it _did_ only make sense, for how can someone serve two rulers at once? “I must thank you for making preparations for Lady Brienne, my men, and me, especially on such short notice. Your hospitality so far has been quite wonderful, and I pray we aren’t too much of an inconvenience.”

Daenerys’ smile widened, although Sansa was sure that even Brienne could tell it was forced, “it has not been a problem at all, Lady Stark, I am glad you have come to swear fealty to the rightful ruler of Westeros.” 

Sansa sighed, _this already_ ? She had been hoping, for Sansa Stark did not pray, that Daenerys and her were going to be able to at least come to some form of understanding before the talk of crowns and thrones and birthrights were brought into the conversation. _A foolish hope, and a dangerous one_ . “My Lady, my brother, the _King_ , sent me here to negotiate an agreement between the North and you, not for me to bend the knee, as there are far more important matters to discuss.” _How was she going to approach this_ ? The idea of wights and whitewalkers seemed even more absurd than dragons to Sansa, but she _knew_ that they were the true enemy, although it had taken Jon weeks to convince her. It had taken her _brother_ , a man she trusted more than anyone in the world weeks to convince her of this threat. How was she to convince a foreign girl of a threat that she may have never even heard of, even in bedtime stories? A foreign girl, and Tyrion. 

She had barely looked at the Lannister Lord since she had been in the presence of Daenerys, but he seemed quite uncomfortable with the entirety of the situation. Jon may be the man she trusted most, but Tyrion was the smartest man Sansa knew. Even if Daenerys agreed to follow Sansa, how was she to convince a man who yielded logic and knowledge in place of steel weapons?

Daenerys opened her mouth, but Missandei beat her to it, glaring at Sansa with more disdain than even her queen. “Lady Stark, you must have forgotten. When in the presence of a queen, the proper way to address her is ‘your Grace,’ not ‘my Lady.’”

“I did not forget, Lady Targaryen, I meant no offense, but as Lady Brienne said when she introduced me, I serve the King in the North, Jon Snow, and therefore am unable to swear fealty to anyone but him.” Tyrion glanced at Sansa, a hint of a smile upon his lips, although Daenerys looked enraged. “And forgive me if I am mistaken, but I do believe Cersei Lannister now holds the Iron Throne, making her the Queen of the six other kingdoms in Westeros. As far as I can tell, you are the last Lady of a once great house, and therefore should be addressed as such.” 

“I have spent my entire life overseas,” Daenerys began, her voice dripping with rage, making no effort to hide it. “And although my history lessons may have missed a few things, as I may have been preoccupied running for my _life_ , I do believe that the Targaryens have ruled all _Seven_ Kingdoms for hundreds and hundreds of years. My father, Aerys Targaryen was wrongfully overthrown, making every man or woman that has sat upon the Iron Throne since then a Usurper and a traitor to the realm.”

Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes- she could not believe the woman sitting in front of her. “Your _father_ , was a murderer, who wrongfully executed my grandfather and uncle in his throne room. He enjoyed _burning_ people alive, and Robert Baratheon and my father, Lord Eddard Stark put an end to his madness. But as I’ve said before, Lady Targaryen-” Sansa placed as much emphasis on the title as possible, she was not going to play the sweet and kind lady, as it clearly had no effect on this woman, “-I am not here to discuss who sits on the Iron Throne, nor am I here to discuss the decisions of the men who came before us. I am here to discuss the fate of every single man, woman, and child in Westeros.” 

Tyrion tilted his head in interest at Sansa, “Lady Stark, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms _does_ concern the fate of every single man, woman, and child in Westeros.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Sansa said patiently, although she was beginning to grow frustrated. Could they take their eyes off of the throne for more than a second? “This may sound ridiculous to all of you in the room, in fact, I would be quite concerned for your mental state if it does not.” She noted the slight shift in Daenerys’ posture, the queen seemed to be leaning forward in interest. _Good_. “The dead are coming, along with winter, and when they come, they will kill each and every one of us.”

“The _dead_ ,” Daenerys looked at the red-haired girl in disbelief. “You are saying that the dead are coming to kill us all, and because of this I should ignore Cersei Lannister?”

“Not only should you ignore Cersei Lannister, but you should help the North. _Westeros_ needs your help, that is, if you wish to have people to rule over.”

Clearing his throat, Tyrion glanced up at his queen and back down at Sansa. “Lady Stark, is there not a wall to keep us from all of the grumpkins and snarks that live beyond it? I believe your brother himself served the Night’s Watch, and I’m sure they will continue to do a fine job of protecting The Wall.” 

The man clearly did not believe her, and Sansa couldn’t quite blame him. What was she saying? The dead are going to kill them all, it sounded so foolish, and even her eleven year old self wouldn’t believe her. But she _needed_ them to believe her, she knew that. “I was just as skeptical as you when Jon told me of the wights- magic has not existed in Westeros for hundreds of years, and the idea of the dead coming to kill us sounds absurd. But I did see three dragons when walking up the steps of Dragonstone, so is it too difficult to believe that other magic exists as well? Let me ask you this, Lord Tyrion, have you ever known my brother, or any Stark for that matter to be a liar?”

The man shifted uncomfortably once again, and glanced up at Daenerys. “I can’t say that I have, Lady Stark, but I also know stories of men who see things in the Night’s Watch, perhaps it’s the cold that does something to the mind?”

Daenerys smirked, turning her focus to Sansa. “I’m afraid that I would need evidence of this threat, and since they clearly do not exist, I am not sure how I can help you Lady Stark.” 

The disrespect and disbelief in Daenerys’ voice was obvious. And it made Sansa furious. All her life she had been disrespected or dismissed, whether it be by her sister and her father, or Cersei, Joffrey, Lady Olenna, Littlefinger, Ramsay, and even Jon when they had first been reunited. Since then, however, she had grown used to a prudent amount of respect from the Northern lords and ladies, and the harsh tones and condescending smiles of Daenerys Targaryen pushed Sansa into a fiery rage, although she hid it far better than Daenerys ever could. “Don’t you _see_ , why would I lie about this? I hate Cersei more than anyone else in this room, and would like nothing less than to see her dead. But we are all just children, playing a game, and the dead are going to destroy us before we even have a chance to fight them.”

Daenerys’ smirk vanished, and she looked down at Tyrion, “you told me you liked this girl, even respected her. You said that she was clever” Sansa’s heart skipped a beat, although she kept her eyes on the Dragon Queen. Tyrion said that she was clever? _Shut up Sansa, you need to focus_. 

“She is,” Tyrion responded, his warm brown eyes trained on Sansa.

“Since we have met she has _refused_ to call me my proper titles, declared Northern independence, refused to swear fealty, and now is calling me a child, while claiming that a children’s bedtime story is a valid reason for me to give up my fight for the throne.

 _And since you were here, you have shown yourself to be an emotional and tactless ruler, with no regard for your emotions or the concern for your lords and ladies, and now can’t even seem to understand a figure of speech_ , Sansa thought to herself. “I did not call you a child, my Lady, I simply called us all children, as a figure of speech. And I do not wish for you to give up your fight against Cersei, she is a threat to me as well. I simply need you to delay your attack on King’s Landing, in order to ensure that there is a King’s Landing left for you to rule. 

“Why should I fight for a Kingdom that is not my own,” Daenerys asked, slowly rising from her seat. “Bend the knee, Sansa Stark, swear Northern allegiance to my cause, and perhaps I will consider sending troops to fight against these imaginary creatures that you fear so much. Until then, I suppose we are at a crossroad.”

“Yes, I suppose we are.” The two women stared at each other, a pair of icy blue eyes meeting fiery green ones, unflinchingly.

“Lady Stark, you are a welcomed guest at Dragonstone for as long as you need, and I’m sure you must be tired after your long journey.” Tyrion’s voice slowly began to cut through the tension that filled the room, clearly not wanting anymore conflict for the day. “Come, I will show you and Lady Brienne to your rooms.”

Sansa turned her body to face Tyrion, her face colder than he had even seen. “Lord Tyrion, are Lady Brienne and I free to leave at any time, or are we _your_ queen’s prisoners?”

“You are welcomed guests here on Dragonstone,” Daenerys spoke, her voice completely shifted from its tone only a few moments before. “Please enjoy your stay.”

And with that, Sansa followed Tyrion out of the room, allowing the guards to open the doors into a much larger prison. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so I know that was kinda a filler chapter, and i'm sorry about that, but i also felt that dany and sansa's relationship needed to be fully addressed. they're obviously not going to be best friends right away, but i promise i'm not planning on making them enemies either. thank you so much for reading and as always, advice and feedback is ALWAYS welcome!
> 
> ps: about the ned and arya thing. i'm obviously not saying that ned and arya disrespected her the way cersei, littlefinger, etc. did, but especially in the books it is clear that both ned and arya find sansa quite foolish and annoying, and are often quite condescending.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry, i'm sorry. this is literally such a short chapter and it took me so so long to write. i'm on vacation right now and i'm already bad at managing my time as it, but i promise i'll try to make next week's chapter longer. 
> 
> ***TW: rape (suggested) and abuse

_ That hadn’t gone as well as he was hoping _ . Tyrion had not necessarily expected the two women to behave like childhood friends, but he had hoped for a mutual understanding to form between the Dragon Queen and Red Wolf. They had both suffered more than anyone had the right to, and at such a young age. Alas, Tyrion’s hopes proved wrong, once again. Not that he could truly blame Daenerys for her attitude. What had Sansa been talking about? Whitewalkers? The  _ dead _ ? He knew that the North held hints of magic, he knew of the direwolves and giants, in fact he had met the Stark’s direwolves when he came to Winterfell all those years ago, he’d seen the beasts as pups. But this,  _ this _ was utter nonsense. 

His main problem with the topic altogether was that he truly was unable to tell whether Sansa Stark believed the words spouting from her mouth. He had been unable to read his wife in King’s Landing, all those years ago, and her ability to hide every and all trace of emotion from her face had remained intact. In fact, it seemed to Tyrion that Sansa had left all emotions hidden somewhere inside of her, not letting them even attempt to approach the surface. Every shadow and expression to grace Sansa’s face was clearly a preconceived strategy, a game to place her enemies exactly where she wanted them. So why would a girl with a great intent to survive come to a place of great danger to her and the North simply to spout lies? 

Perhaps she really did believe it, perhaps she did believe in the impossible threat. Although smart, Sansa Stark had always been trusting, too trusting in Tyrion’s opinion. Even after the years of abuse that she suffered in King’s Landing, Ned Stark’s daughter had seemed to trust Tyrion, to a minor degree, during their marriage, which in Tyrion’s opinion was a terrible choice. Trusting no one was a lonely way to live a life, but a far safer option. Sansa would learn that soon enough, though Tyrion was surprised she had not been taught the valuable lesson already. 

***

As the trio walked through the drafty halls, Sansa’s face remained forward, and despite Tyrion being in charge of the accompanying Brienne and her to their chambers, he struggled to keep up with the Stark girl’s pace. Brienne of Tarth’s expression remained just as impassive as her Lady’s, but her eyes were not able to play the same game. The knight, although Tyrion supposed she wasn’t truly a knight, looked at Sansa with a mix of concern and understanding, clearly wanting to be alone with her. 

“Well, I’m sure that your first impression of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms-” Tyrion made sure to include the North in his statement, “-was perhaps a bit off-putting.” 

Sansa continued to walk, acting as though she hadn’t heard the words flowing out of Tyrion’s mouth. Brienne glanced down at him, but followed Sansa’s example, remaining silent. 

“I am choosing to believe that you did not really think you could convince Daenerys Targaryen to abandon her lifelong goals to fight an imaginary threat. Sansa, I know you are smarter than that. You can’t expect us to believe something preposterous as the story you told.”

Not a word. 

The Unsullied guards came to a sudden halt, and looked at Tyrion. Apparently he was now the only one speaking in this ensemble. “Sansa, these are your chambers, our Queen has made arrangements for you and your guards. Brienne will have chambers just down the hall, and my chambers are across from yours. My apologies, but there is no Maidenvault at Dragonstone.” Tyrion kept his voice as cool as possible, wanting to remain civil. 

“Thank you, Lord Tyrion,” Tyrion did not miss the use of his title. The action hurt, cutting deeper than Sansa had likely intended. “I’m sure our stay will be quite comfortable.” With that, she turned, and Brienne escorted the woman he used to call his wife into her chambers. 

“Oh, and Lady Stark,” Sansa turned, her face as impassive as before. “Our Queen personally invites you to break your fast with us tomorrow morning. I trust that you will meet us in her chambers.”

“Please thank Lady Targaryen for her generous offer, I look forward to discussing our interests further.” And with that, the daughter of winter disappeared from Tyrion’s sight.  _ She has become a better liar _ . 

***

The screams that echoed throughout the halls that night were less human than anything Tyrion had ever heard. The harsh sounds cut into him more than a sword blade ever could, and the sobs that followed these screams did nothing to heal these wounds. Tyrion had witnessed men being burned alive. He had witnessed children starving on the streets. Tyrion Lannister had witnessed and heard so many horrors in his life that he thought nothing could shock him. But the sounds that reached his bedchamber that night proved that thought, or perhaps a hope, to be immeasurably wrong. 

They woke him almost instantly, and before he could fully process the action, Tyrion rushed out of his chambers, seeking the source of the horrific noise that continued to echo through his ears. After stumbling around for quite a bit of time, as the halls of Dragonstone made room for very little light, Tyrion finally located the source of the screams. Sansa. He rushed to her chambers, as they were unguarded. What was the use of her men without their weapons? Bursting through the doors, he was shocked at what lay before him. 

What was once a woman who held every ounce of her body with the highest composure was replaced with a small girl curled into a tight ball in the corner of her bed. Her copper hair danced in the candles that lit her room, strewn about in every direction, and her body was shaking more than seemed natural for anyone. For a few seconds, she didn’t notice the small man’s presence, too absorbed in the violent sobs escaping her lips. 

“Sansa?” Tyrion whispered as delicately as possible, as if talking to something so fragile and so deadly that it may explode at the slightest of scares. He slowly began to move forward, and the sobs slowed as she raised her head, ever so slightly. Her deep blue eyes stared at him, filled with fear.  _ She thought he was going to hurt her _ . The idea terrified Tyrion.  _ What could they have done to her to make her fear a dwarf so _ ?

“Please,” she whispered, her voice quivering, “please don’t hurt me.” 

_ How could I ever hurt you _ ? “Sansa, it’s me, Tyrion. You had a nightmare, but you’re safe now. You’re at Dragonstone, and I’m Tyrion Lannister, I would never hurt you.” 

A look of recognition flashed through her eyes, and yet she shrunk back even further, caving into her body. Tyrion opened his mouth once again, not wanting to get any closer to the broken creature sitting before him. Just then, two figures burst into the room. Lady Brienne was wrapped in a robe, and he had never seen her look more disheveled, though to be fair, he had not seen Lady Brienne many times in his life. The shorter figure standing next to the tall woman, was Theon Greyjoy, and the concern in his eyes matched, if not overpowered Tyrion’s. 

“Sansa,” Brienne spoke gently, and she slowly approached the girl, her eyes glancing at Tyrion for only a second. “Sansa, Ramsay’s dead, he can’t hurt you anymore. Sansa, you’re  _ safe _ , you’re here with me, you’re here with Theon.” The exclusion stung, but he quickly shook it off. He stepped forwards as well, following Brienne’s lead. Sansa flinched immediately, pressing her body against the wall even more. 

“Stay back,” Theon whispered softly, like Tyrion, he was afraid to make too much sound. 

“I want to help,” Tyrion hissed, wanting so badly to wrap Sansa in his arms and whisper to her that everything in the world would be alright. 

“I know you do,” Theon’s eyes were soft, and his voice was softer. “You want to keep her safe, and you want to help her, but you can’t. The best thing you can do for her right now is to leave. She will be alright in the morning, talk to her then.” Tyrion took several steps back but couldn’t bear to leave the room, instead keeping his eyes trained on Sansa. 

Theon and Brienne both slowly made their way towards Sansa, as she slowly unfurled herself from a ball. The three sat upon her bed, both Theon and Brienne slowly running their hands on Sansa’s back, and her sobs gradually stopped, the room empty of cries once more. The shaking did not stop however, nor did Sansa’s desperate gasps for air, as though the very life was being pushed out of her. She whispered over and over again- “please, please don’t hurt me. I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll do anything you ask of me, just please don’t hurt me.”

It was then when Tyrion’s eyes left Sansa’s face and slowly began to examine the rest of her body. If he had been enraged before, then Tyrion didn’t know what to call himself now. Although the room was dark, he was able to make out dark red gashes slashed across her arms and chest, clearly scars that were still healing. Underneath the dark red lines were small white slashes, old scars that reminded Tyrion too much of a sad story about a sad girl who had no one to save her. 

Sansa noticed Tyrion’s wandering eyes, and flinched once again. The action hurt, but not nearly as much as it did when Tyrion looked at the lines of hatred that decorated Sansa’s body. “Please,” she whispered this time, almost gently, as if she was comforting him, instead of the other way around. “Just go.” And with that Tyrion left the room, leaving Sansa to the strangely comforting words of Brienne of Tarth and Theon Greyjoy. 

***

Tyrion wanted to kill somebody. He wanted to wrap his hands around the throat of a man and watch the life drain from their eyes. He wanted to kill every man in Westeros that had ever laid a hand on Sansa Stark, and yet, a small part of his heart knew that every man who laid their hands upon the Daughter of Winterfell would soon be dead, at the hands of the Red Wolf herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! one thing that REALLY irritated me about the show (and they did this for almost all of the characters) is that they completely left out all of the PTSD that these characters would suffer. that's what i tried to incorporate in this chapter, since i think it's something that would have been important to sansa's journey. 
> 
> from reading cases from abuse/rape victims, i know that a lot women don't like to be touched, especially by men in the aftermath, hence sansa being so jumpy around tyrion and so trusting of brienne, the same goes for theon because he knows the abuse that sansa endured. next chapter i will write a true sansa/theon reunion, but it didn't really make sense for it to occur in this chapter. 
> 
> again, thank you so much for reading and as always, comments and suggestion are always appreciated!


	7. Chapter Six

Sansa awoke to a soft but urgent fist banging against her door. “Lady Stark, it’s Brienne, may I come in?”

She rubbed her eyes and yawned,  _ why did it seem so early? _ “Yes, yes, come in.” As Sansa took in her surroundings, she noticed the bright rays of sun forcing themselves through the small window in the corner of her bedchambers. What time  _ was _ it? 

The question needed not remain unanswered for long, as Brienne lumbered into her chambers. Her protector and closest friend looked as tired as Sansa felt, as her bright blue eyes examined the disaster of a room. The sheets that once draped Sansa’s bed were on the other side of the room and broken glass decorated the floor, although Sansa did not know what the object had once been.  _ Perhaps a mirror _ . “Sansa,” Brienne said, “it’s nearly nine in the morning.” 

That broke Sansa out of her haze faster than any amount of cold water. She could not remember the last time she had slept so late. Cursing, Sansa rose from her bed, resenting the small window in the corner of her room. It almost seemed as though it was taunting her, the sole reason for her late awakening.  _ At Winterfell, every chamber has at least one window, and far bigger than this _ . But it did no good to dwell on Winterfell, at least not at this moment. She was late, well about to be, and Sansa of House Stark was never late.

“Brienne, please let in the poor girls standing outside my door to help me dress,” she had seen them when Brienne had opened the doors to chamber. Brienne opened her mouth in protest, she clearly wanted to discuss something with Sansa alone, but now was not the time. “We will talk after I break my fast with Daenerys and Tyrion, but for now I  _ must  _ get ready.” 

Two young girls were ushered into the room by Brienne, both with long dark hair and bronze skin. Sansa assumed they were Dothraki, but without the distinct leathers and bells it was difficult to be sure. Sansa was sure, however, that these two sweet girls were most definitely spies, and by the way her friend’s eyes followed them- she was aware too. They both allowed a small curtsey and set to work, removing the dresses from Sansa’s trunk, ignoring the mess on the ground. She still wasn’t quite sure  _ when _ her chambers had become a disaster, but that didn’t matter, at least at the moment. 

As the girls worked to lace up Sansa’s gown, their eyes were clearly drawn to the ugly scars carved into Sansa’s back. One girl let out a small gasp, that immediately made Brienne set her stony eyes onto the girl. Sansa herself would have been scared at the tall woman’s glare if it was directed at her. After that there were no more comments or sounds coming from either of the girls’ mouths. The younger handmaid of the two, perhaps ten and three, began to braid Sansa’s long coppery hair into an elaborate style, similar to the one worn my Daenerys during their short encounter. Sansa opened her mouth to protest, as she much preferred the simpler, Northern styles, especially after leaving King’s Landing, but decided against it, wanting to please Daenerys as much as possible. Making people like you was the best way to control them, Cersei had taught her that, and Margaery had only reiterated it. 

Small hands pulled at her head, and Sansa winced internally. They were pulling too hard, a problem that she had never had with Shae. Her favorite handmaiden. She had seemed to know what Sansa needed more than Sansa ever had herself, and the Lady of Winterfell sincerely hoped that her strange and foreign friend had escaped King’s Landing, though she doubted the thought with every passing moment. The girl finally finished, and curtseyed, her friend following in her footsteps. 

“What are your names?” She asked abruptly, standing up from the small dressing table. Sansa Stark did not remotely trust these girls, nor did she have any disillusions of their true intentions, but she would not let it be told that she was rude to any being on Dragonstone, except perhaps the dragons. 

The girl who had done Sansa’s hair spoke first, her eyes kept on the floor. “Akaj, my Lady, and this is my sister-” 

The older girl cut her off. “I’m Kyra, my Lady.” A small smile graced Sansa’s lips, although it remained hidden to anyone who didn’t know her. They reminded her of Arya and she, when they were younger. Oh, how she missed her younger sister. At least she knew that Robb and Rickon were dead, she had seen their dead bodies, or knew men who had. With Arya, no one could tell Sansa that she was dead. No one could give her the beloved daughter of Ned Stark’s bone, no one knew  _ anything _ . The feeling of not knowing, the desperate and horrific  _ hope _ that her little sister could still be alive hurt Sansa more than whatever Ramsay or Joffrey had ever done to her. How sweet it would be to see her again. Sansa pushed the dangerous thoughts out of her mind as fast as possible, it did no good to dwell on the past. 

“Well, Kyra, Akaj, I do believe we’ll be seeing much of each other during my stay on Dragonstone. If you could have my rooms cleaned while I meet with your Queen,” the girls clearly missed the use of Sansa’s word choice, their dark brown eyes intently staring into Sansa’s, “- I would greatly appreciate it.” Sansa had learned a long time ago that treating those beneath her with respect and kindness was a far safer way to get things done. Hatred was dangerous.

There was a short rapping at the door, almost tentatively done, as though the person knocking thought the solid wood was glass. Before Sansa could invite her guest in, an Unsullied guard opened the door with a swing, and there stood Tyrion Lannister. His small frame seemed shortened by the Unsullied guards on either side of him, and the look that sat upon his face resembled one she hadn’t seen since King’s Landing. That day was the worst day in Sansa’s life, and his kind but broken face had only added to her misery. The news of her brother and mother’s deaths had nearly broken her, and when presented by Joffrey,  _ Joffrey _ of all people, it was though someone had ripped out her heart and crushed it, while somehow still forcing her to live, crueler than any execution. She supposed Tyrion had been planning on giving her the news, hence his crumpled expression, but a small part of her was thankful that he hadn’t. Tyrion was someone she associated with comfort, with a semblance of safety. Him breaking her world, no matter how kindly, would have ruined his face far more than any scar.  _ Why was everything reminding her of her past _ ?

Tyrion almost looked scared of her, standing there in the dark door frame. As though Sansa was some wild beast that could attack him at any moment. The expression hurt, although she was not quite sure why. “Lady Sansa, you look stunning this morning.”

“And you look quite handsome my Lord.”

Tyrion caught her game, and allowed himself a smile. “The husband of your dreams, but you, you do like quite ravishing.” 

Sansa smiled back, and began to walk out of the room. “Oh, Tyrion, I do believe we have agreed to call each other by our names.”

“Of course, Sansa.” And with that, the tensions evaporated between the two, or at least in Sansa’s opinion. Of course, her anger with the Dragon Queen remained, but she had changed her strategy once again. If she could only  _ show _ Daenerys the threat, perhaps her attentions would truly divert, that is if she was the woman that Missandei and Tyrion spoke of. 

***

As they entered the room, Sansa took note of every detail. Like the rest of the castle, the room was sparsely decorated, yet another indication of Daenerys’ hopes to leave Dragonstone as soon as possible. Daenerys sat at a small round table, another person by her side. Sansa had thought that Missandei would accompany Daenerys during their meeting, but her thoughts had proved wrong. The sight of the man sitting before her nearly caused all of the strength to leave her body, and she let out a gasp of relief she didn’t know she had been holding in. 

_ Theon _ . Theon was  _ here _ , Theon was  _ alive _ , Theon was standing right before her. She rushed into his arms, forgetting all courtesies and manners. The armor that she used to protect herself from everything and everyone was taken off as she fell into his gentle embrace. For a second, she feared that he would not hug her back, perhaps he believed that she would not want his touch. But then his arms wrapped around her, and for a second she felt as though her family was alive again. She could hear Robb and Bran in the courtyard, with Arya chasing little Rickon around and her father’s warm chuckle and her mother’s small smirk. She could see Robb and Theon bickering as though they were brothers, and Jon helping Bran nock an arrow into place. Theon was home, and he and Jon together made her new Winterfell complete. The embrace was short, shorter than she wanted it to be, but Sansa Stark could not discard her armor for long, not without letting herself get hurt. She had learned that lesson far too many times. 

So she used every ounce of strength that remained in her body and pulled back from home and from happiness. “Wha-what, are you doing here?” She kept her voice as controlled as she could, and let her eyes shift from Theon’s to Daenerys’.

Before Theon could answer, Daenerys interjected. “Welcome Lady Stark, I’m pleased you’ve agreed to this meeting.” Sansa let out a small curtsey, once again one befitting a lady, not a queen. “I am quite upset with how our introduction to one another went, and I would like to start anew.” She rolled her eyes internally, but kept her gaze equal with the Dragon Queen’s. “I felt as though a reminder of your home, and a friend may help keep our conversations more amiable.” Daenerys’ tone was kind enough, but her eyes held more of a threat.  _ I know more about you than you will ever know about me _ .  _ Theon had told her _ . Of course it had not been of mal intent, but the betrayal stung all the same. She had tried to keep her life with Ramsay as quiet as possible, even the Northern lords and ladies only held suspicions of what she endured. 

“That’s quite considerate of you, my Lady”

A fire sparked in Daenerys’ eyes, the use of her title seemed to set her off more than any other insult Sansa could hurl at her yet.  _ At least for now _ . “How about, Lady Sansa, when we are in private, we forget these silly titles.”

_ She wants to level the playing field _ . She wanted control the names they called each other. Well, Sansa could play that game better than anyone. “Of course, Daenerys. I do believe that Tyrion and I have already come to the same arrangement.” 

The man nodded in agreement, the first input he had put into the conversation since they had entered the room. “Please, sit.” Daenerys gestured at the food set out before them, drawing Sansa’s eyes to the contents of the table for the first time. 

She couldn’t help herself, “lemon cakes?” The squeal of excitement was embarrassing, and Sansa’s cheeks immediately flushed. She sounded like the girl of King’s Landing all over again. 

Daenerys smiled, but unlike Cersei’s, it held no trace of mockery. It seemed as genuine as the emotions that constantly played in her green eyes.  _ She liked seeing people happy _ . “Tyrion told me that they were your favorite.” 

Sansa glanced at Tyrion, and it may have been the lighting, but it seemed that a small wave of pink had crept up into his cheeks. Her heart skipped another beat, and she resisted the urge to grin.  _ He remembered _ . He had tried to coax her to eat with her favorite food all those years ago, and though it had not worked then, it certainly worked now. She reached for the pastry and smiled.  _ He remembered _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i'm low key very very proud of this chapter. i know it came kinda late and we didn't get tons of dany/sansa interactions , but we did get some sansa/tyrion.
> 
> small note: yes, sansa doesn't remember the events of last night, and yes, tyrion will confront her about them after the meeting with dany. 
> 
> quick question, would y'all like me to add in jon and maybe arya's perspective? i feel like that would tie in the storylines later more effectively. as always, suggestions and advice are always welcome :)


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Sansa talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK OK I KNOW. this literally took so so long to update and for that i'm so sorry. i literally hate it when authors do what i just did. but here it is now, so i hope you enjoy :)

Watching Daenerys and Sansa attack and counterattack was perhaps one of the most intriguing battles he had ever bared witness, and he had witnessed quite a few. Ned Stark, Joffrey, Cersei, Littlefinger, Bealish, Olenna Tyrell, and the infamous Tywin Lannister himself. The way they played the game involved every ounce of their attention. The tone of their voice, the shift of their mouth, even the way they leaned forward in their chair. The skills of the two women before him matched those of their predecessors, though they seemed equally balanced, which surprised Tyrion far more than he could explain. Daenerys was intelligent, he knew that, and she had shown it on several occasions, but he had never seen her play the games of Westerosi politics. Not the way Sansa had. But for every retort that Sansa spit, Daenerys responded with an equally valid point. It was wolf against dragon, and unlike the legends, they were equally matched.  _ No _ , not wolf against dragon,  _ direwolf  _ against dragon . 

He was not fully engrossed in the battle set before him though. A small bit of his mind was focused on the events of the night before. Sansa’s screams, her scars, her fear. The animalistic way her face morphed from fear to sadness and back to fear. The broken glass across the floor. The way she only allowed Brienne and Theon to comfort her. The way she drew back at Tyrion’s approach. The way she almost seemed sorry about it, as if it was not fully her choice. But what shocked him, or perhaps scared him the most was the way Sansa had treated him when he had met her outside of her chambers this morning. She had acted as though it had never happened. As though the terrifying minutes had ceased to exist. Did she not remember? Or was she just embarrassed? Sansa Stark barely took off a piece of her armor of courtesies, and last night she was fully bare. 

_ Why was he so concerned with it to begin with _ ? They weren’t married any longer, Sansa Stark should no longer be his concern.  _ Or where they married _ ? Tyrion wasn’t sure. Their marriage had not technically been annulled, but Sansa  _ had _ taken a different husband. Did that cancel out their first? He wasn’t sure. Unfortunately, there was currently no High Septon to consult him upon the matter, Cersei had made sure of that. 

“This leads me back to the same point I’ve been bringing up for ages. Why should I support a kingdom that is not my own? Swear allegiance to my throne and claim and I will do everything in my power to help the North.” Daenerys’ icy voice was filled with the same sort of tiredness that had inhabited Tyrion’s voice whenever he had spoken to Joffrey. It seemed to scream  _ why did she not understand _ ? 

Sansa’s equally steely voice responded, her argument unchanging. “The North has suffered under Southern rule for too long. The King in the North is continuing what my brother, Robb Stark started, carrying on Northern independence that we held for hundreds of years before Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon-”

“ _ Targaryen _ . Torrhen Stark bent the knee to the Targaryen Dynasty, and promised the North to the rightful ruler of the  _ Seven  _ Kingdoms. It is your duty as a Stark, and your brother’s duty as Ned Stark’s son to uphold the North’s notorious honor.”

“And your father broke the North’s trust and faith when he burned both my uncle and grandfather alive. Your father was rightfully overthrown, and you must live with the consequences. I support your claim to the Iron Throne, as does the rest of the North, but the North  _ will _ remain an independent kingdom.” Sansa stated her independence colder than anything that Tyrion had ever felt, and the words chilled him to spine. He had never met Robb Stark, at least not while he was King, but he had a strong suspicion that he would be beaming with pride if he was listening to Sansa at the moment. 

“My father was an evil man” the words flowed out of Daenerys’ mouth casually, but Tyrion did a double take. Theon looked up as well, not attempting to hide the surprise upon his face. Sansa’s expression didn’t even twitch, but her eyes matched Theon’s surprise. He had not been expecting Daenerys to admit her father’s crimes so easily. Yes, he knew that she was aware of her bloodline and the horrors it held, but conceding to the fact that they existed simply furthered the claim that her birthright was invalid or illegitimate. “He burned people alive and committed atrocities that will be remembered by the maesters for eras to come. But I am  _ not _ my father. I will rule Westeros with justice and kindness that it has deserved for so long. I trust you trust Tyrion, he did a damn good job of keeping the peace while Joffrey reigned, or so I hear. And Varys, Olenna Tyrell, Ellaria Sand, and Yara Greyjoy are all close advisors of mine, so I am not immersing myself into Westerosi politics with no one by my side. In fact, one of my plans once I have the Iron Throne-” 

“You mean once you are Queen.”

The smile that had begun to build up on Daenerys’ face extinguished in under a second. “I am already Queen.”

“Perhaps,” Sansa waved her arm around the dark chambers. “I suppose if Jon is the King of the North than you can be the Queen of Dragonstone, but you are not the Queen of Westeros. That title, as much as I’d like for it to be false, belongs to Cersei Lannister. She holds the Iron Throne, therefore she is Queen. I do not mean this as an offense, Daenerys, but I do want us to be truthful. I find that deception, even unintended, causes far more problems than it actually solves.”  _ Yes, you would know that _ . Deceitful words had been fed to Sansa as often as truthful ones in King’s Landing, if not more. She had absorbed them, and to the dismay of her enemies, had retained them. However, he did not believe that Sansa was using any of her skills in this moment. She seemed genuine. More genuine, in fact, than seemed natural for a girl who had built a fortress around her. 

A small smile crept back upon Daenerys’ face, though not quite as large as before, and much more forced. “I suppose if you want to put it in those terms, it’s quite alright.”  
“Good,” Sansa’s hand slowly moved across the table and grasped the Dragon Queen’s, her touch seemingly soft. “I meant no harm.” The soft moment was interrupted by a harsh banging sound against the heavy wooden doors. A figure almost entirely comprised of shadows melted into the room, and his presence could have been missed if not for the sound accompanying him. 

Tyrion had not seen his good friend since the Northerners arrived on the island, the Spider often hid in the shadows. “Your Grace,” Varys let out a deep bow, his cloak sleeves brushing the floor. He then turned to face Sansa, whose face had turned to a piece of stone. “Lady Stark, my apologies I have not greeted you sooner.”

_ His apologies are false, like most of his words _ . Tyrion liked Varys, in fact he considered him a close friend, but the Spider’s deception and web of spies could cut enemies down with a few simple words. The Daughter of Winterfell seemed to know that as well, and rose from her chair, an unnecessary formality. 

She allowed her lips to curve into a soft smile, though not one that Tyrion had craved for years to see. “There are no apologies needed, Lord Varys, it is truly wonderful to see you again.”

Daenerys was far less formal, clearly irritated by the interruption when she and Sansa had finally seemed to be getting somewhere. The forced smile that had painted her face now disappeared completely, and her voice grew cooler. “Varys, what can I do for you at this hour? I do believe I informed you that Lady Sansa and I were to be meeting at this time.” Tyrion internally cringed at the absence of Varys’ title when Daenerys addressed him. It was not needed for the Queen to address her lords and ladies with respect, but it certainly did make them appear more agreeable, and with Sansa, well, titles and courtesies seemed to mean everything. 

“My apologies, your Grace, but a raven has arrived from the North, and I assumed Lady Stark would want it at once.” Theon’s head shot up, his eyes filled with interest. The Greyjoy boy had not spoken much during the meeting, only occasionally confirming something stated by Sansa or nodding his head in agreement at a promise of Daenerys’. 

_ What have you done old friend _ ? Tyrion thought to himself, his head almost instantly spinning with new plots and alliances made behind his back. Revealing that the North had sent a letter to Sansa in front of the Lady of Winterfell herself guaranteed that Daenerys would have no ability to withhold information. The Dragon Queen may not have been a political genius, but she clearly saw through Varys’ game.  _ Whose side was he truly on _ ?

Daenerys opened her hand, but Sansa grabbed the letter first, tearing open the Stark seal with great haste. Tears began to well up in her eyes, the candles reflected in her gaze. A hand went to Sansa’s mouth and Tyrion could tell his estranged wife was trying to hold in a sob. A sob he was far too familiar with.  _ Please don’t let it be Jon Snow _ . Tyrion didn’t believe in the Seven, or any gods for that matter, but in that moment he prayed harder than he had ever prayed in his life. 

Theon rose, reading the note over Sansa’s shoulder, his pale blue eyes moving rapidly across the parchment. His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of thousands of stones had been lifted off his shoulders. He grabbed the parchment, and looked at Sansa for approval. She gave a quick nod, still trying to hold back tears. 

_ Sansa, _

_ Arya and Bran have returned. They are safe and unharmed, and eager to see you once you have returned. Their stories may seem more absurd than both yours or mine, and I hope for you to return home soon. _

_ -Jon _

_ Arya Stark was alive?  _ Tyrion had known that Bran was alive, or at least known that Theon had not killed him as the Northerners claimed. But  _ Arya Stark _ . No one had seen her since the imprisonment of Ned Stark, and was presumed dead by everyone, including Varys’ little birds. He turned to his friend, and was shocked by the lack of concealment upon his face. The Spider was smiling. Well, his lips had turned upwards at least, which was more emotion from Varys than Tyrion had ever witnessed. Varys had never known Arya Stark, at least to the extent of Tyrion’s knowledge, so why was he so pleased to learn of her well being?

The Lannister’s eyes quickly shifted from Varys to Daenerys, who at least tried to look as though she cared. She had placed a small smile upon her lips, but her eyes seemed elsewhere. Finally, Tyrion shifted his gaze to Sansa. She had removed the hand from her mouth, and Tyrion stepped back a few feet. Sansa Stark, perhaps the saddest person he had ever met, was  _ smiling _ . Not the small smile that she let out when playing a game, nor the relieved smile that had graced her face when reunited with Theon Greyjoy. No, Sansa Stark had a look of pure joy upon her face, and she was most definitely the most radiant creature Tyrion had ever seen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys liked this chapter! this took me an insanely long time for some reason and again i'm so so sorry about that. school started back up for me last week and i've just had a lot going on. i was going to post last night but then taylor swift dropped lover and my world paused
> 
> do you guys have any sanrion songs? i'm thinking of making a spotify playlist? anyways, i would love some feedaback and as always thank you so much for reading!


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its a flash to the past i guess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so apparently i don't update anymore, sorry about that (i've been super sick so that's why i didn't really write the past two weeks, i'm so sorry. i'm better now but reading the stuff i wrote when sick was hilarious, note to self: don't write with a fever). i'm actually really really happy with this chapter so i hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> also i noticed that last chapter i said LIONS and wolves instead of dragons and wolves and i literally hate myself and would like to be kicked out of this fandom. it's fixed now but that was pathetic.

_ Arya was alive. Arya was alive _ . In that moment Sansa could not recall anything to her mind other than the simple fact. Arya Stark, the beloved child of Ned Stark, was alive, safe, and in Winterfell. A child’s laughter played in her head, mixed with outraged screams and cruel snickers. The weight that had haunted her for so long lifted from her chest. She  _ knew _ Arya’s fate, and even more, she  _ knew _ where she was. 

And Bran. She had known Bran was alive, or at least chosen to believe so. But he was home too. Her brother was safe. And they were both alive

_ Winterfell _ . She needed to go back there. That’s where  _ they _ were. That’s where her family was, every surviving member of it. Jon and Arya and Bran and Arya and Jon and Bran. Their names seemed to pound in her head, an incessant noise that she never wanted to leave. All she had ever wanted was her family. And they were  _ alive _ . Well, what remained of them anyway. She could see the snow-covered Winterfell, with Arya racing Bran atop the walls, Jon smiling up at them from below, his dark hair decorated with snowflakes. Well, Bran wouldn’t be running. His legs were broken. That she knew. She wanted to be with them so badly. She  _ needed _ to be with them. To wrap Bran in her arms, to fall into Jon’s warm embrace, to throw a snowball at Arya and chase her around the courtyard. To be Sansa Stark talking in a warm room with her two brothers Jon and Bran and her sister Arya.

***

Daenerys cleared her throat. Aggressively. 

Sansa was pushed from her thoughts, and brought back to the cold and unforgiving Dragonstone. She looked around the dark room. Daenerys stood, irritated, her piercing green eyes glaring at Varys. His face held a small smirk, so unlike any expression she had ever seen on the Master of Whisperers. He looked happy, though Sansa was not sure why. Theon looked just as relieved as she, his face wet with tears. And Tyrion. There was a shadow of relief on his face, though he seemed just as consumed with her siblings’ well being as Daenerys. No, he was clearly not in the state of relief that both she and Theon shared, but he was not absent either.

His mouth was slightly ajar, as though he was looking at some strange animal or unknown being. His green eyes were soft, as always, but stared intently, seeming to take in every detail of the phenomenon set before him. But he was looking at  _ her _ . Tyrion Lannister was looking at Sansa Stark as though she was the most mystifying being in the world. It didn’t make sense. Tyrion knew her, perhaps more than anyone, besides Jon- she wasn’t a mystery to him. He’d seen her beaten, he’d seen her cry, he’d seen her give up on the world. He’d been her  _ husband _ . So why was he looking at he the way he was?

And why did it make her nervous? 

Not the paranoid sort of nervous that was pitted so deeply in Sansa’s stomach that it seemed to have a permanent home. Nor was it the anxiousness she felt when she had seen Jon after so many years of needing home and safety but not knowing whether she was welcome. 

No, this sort of nervousness caused her stomach to flutter, as though it was full of bees, or perhaps butterflies. The feeling was not wholly unfamiliar though. She recalled the same fluttering sensation from years ago, it had appeared a handful of times in King’s Landing. Once when Joffrey had kissed her. His lips had been wormy and hot, and his breath was sour. He had given her a locket with a lion on it, and she had worn the locket religiously until her father’s execution. She’d tossed it in a fire after that, praying that the metal would melt before it was discovered by one of the maids. 

It hadn’t. She still wasn’t sure which of her handmaids had found out. Not that she really cared. Until Shae, they were all the same. Soft and jumpy, with snickers hidden behind hands and words that always seemed to find their way to Cersei’s ears. The Queen had summoned her to her chambers, an invitation that Sansa had come to fear, for the verbal torture that came with it had left her with countless sleepless nights. The golden haired woman had gripped her wrist tightly and held up the half melted necklace. The lion that had been engraved in it had been melted off, its clasp a metallic clump. 

“Do you know what this is, dove?” The woman had asked, gripping Sansa’s wrist even harder. Her voice still haunted Sansa, with its light tone hiding all of the evils it brought forth. 

“N-no, your Grace,” she had whispered, trying not to whimper as Cersei’s nails dug into her arm. She truly had not known for sure. The object before her bore no resemblance to the gift Joffrey had given her and she had still been in shock. Joffrey had made her look at her father’s head again that morning.

Cersei had snorted, as she set the locket down on the table. “Don’t lie to me Sansa. This is the gift the  _ King _ gave to you. How did it end up in the fireplace?” The question was casual, but even then, Sansa knew better. 

“It must have fallen, your Grace,” the lie sounded weak, even to her. “When I was getting ready for bed.” She truly had been a terrible liar. Things had changed. 

The Queen had opened her mouth, about to spit more venom at the young and already burned girl, but she seemed to think the better of it. She could have her fun in other ways. “Yes Sansa, it must have fallen. You must be more careful with your things, they always seem to find a way to disappear if one’s not careful.”

Cersei had not pursued the act further, nor did she ever mention it to Sansa again. But the next day, an exact replica had been placed upon her dressing table. She had worn it whenever she was to spend time with the King. But she had never felt the fluttering around the cruel blond haired boy again. 

The second time was two years after the first occurence. She had been sitting on the fountain ledge with Loras Tyrell. Their engagement was not official, but yet, she talked about her wedding, her want for Highgarden, though it had really been her want for home. His blue eyes were kinder than Joffrey’s green ones, and his curly brown hair separated him from the Lannisters, a barrier she desperately needed. He had said nothing special truly, simply mentioning the need for a bride at his wedding, almost an afterthought. That had been enough though. There is was again. Her heart had begun to beat faster, and her lips formed a smile, her eyes not leaving his. In that moment she had wanted to be kissed more than anything in the entire world. In her mind, a kiss meant safety. 

Of course, it had only lasted a moment. Loras had stood and their time together had ended. Then she married Tyrion Lannister and he became engaged to Cersei Lannister. It never would have worked between the two. Sansa had learned that a long time ago from Littlefinger. The Lannisters would never give up her claim to the North, and Loras would not have been particularly inclined to fight with her. He didn’t like women. The court rumors about Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon had been true. Even if they had been married, Sansa would have been unhappy, she had wanted someone to love her. A foolish and childish notion. 

Margaery Tyrell had loved her. Of that Sansa was now certain. She was not a plaything to the girl, and she was more than a friend. But they could not have wed. No more than Loras and Renly. She and Sansa’s conversations had often led to the fluttering in Sansa’s stomach, but the daughter of the North had brushed it off, ignoring its constant recurrence. Her touch had been soft and her words had been bright, the epitome of the South Sansa had dreamed of. The epitome of the South she loved.

The final time the irritating sensation had found its way to Sansa was after months of her marriage to Tyrion. He had joked about the two of them being perfect for each other, “the disgraced daughter and the demon monkey” he had said. She had then told him how to sheep shift a bed, in retaliation for a lord’s laughs. He had laughed, pretending to be shocked at what she thought were her crass words. 

_ Sheep shift _ . She had been so naive, so young. And yet, they had been so cruel. Joffrey and Cersei and all the rest. But not Tyrion. And so the flutters had reemerged once again. Tyrion had been kind, but he had been more as well. 

Why was she so goddamn nervous? She had decided that the flutters were most definitely butterflies. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so yeah. so literally nothing happened in the present but we did get some more backstory and stuff. and yes sansa and margaery were in love. yes it's canon. yes i will fight people. sorry i love sansaery so so much. 
> 
> so sansa's starting to reciprocate feelings, but she's obviously going to move a lot slower than tyrion because of ramsay. and yes tyrion will be moving faster since this is based off of the show and not the books, so he's not super dark or recovering from that. i hope you guys enjoyed and as always, tips and requests are always appreciated!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh i'm amazed i still have readers because i literally suck at uploading so much and i'm so sorry. anyways, this is a pretty long chapter so enjoy!

The meeting with Daenerys had gone awkwardly at best after Sansa had received the news. Daenerys’ pleasant mood had vanished the moment Varys betrayed her trust. Varys had left, clearly noting the Dragon Queen’s anger. Theon was far too distracted to truly side with either woman. And Sansa seemed to have thousands of thoughts drifting through her mind. 

Tyrion couldn’t blame her. Any update he had received concerning Jaime whilst in Meereen had sent a new wave of hope through him, perhaps the most dangerous emotion of all. For Sansa to discover, two! of her last surviving family members were alive, must have sent an entire ocean coursing through her. Yet there seemed to be something else as well. The strange looks that had been shot at him while the Lady of Winterfell had continued to argue for Northern independence seemed entirely unrelated to the survival of Arya and Bran Stark. The glances had been composed of suspicion, but something else as well. An emotion he had never seen in Sansa Stark. It was raw, but certainly not grief, an expression he knew all too well, that had graced the girl’s eyes too often. 

Additionally, any time he had spoken she had seemed to jump. Not flinch. Not act as though she had the night before. She wasn’t afraid of him, at least not outwardly (though Tyrion couldn’t blame her if she was, he  _ was _ a monster after all). No, she was behaving like a young girl who was meeting someone for the first time, which struck him as even more odd. He had seen Sansa interact with foreign lords and mysterious ladies. She had treated them as though she had known them all her life. The perfect lady. So what was wrong?

He thought back to her smile. He genuinely had never seen anything more perfect. And Tyrion Lannister had laid witness to quite a few beautiful things in the world. But Sansa smiling. It had stopped his world. His eyes had become lost in hers, and for a moment all he wanted was to kiss her. To press his lips against her own and run his hands through her loose hair. He had pushed the thoughts out of his mind within seconds. The Northern girl could barely touch him, what gave him the idea that they could be anything more than good acquaintances or distant friends.

Daenerys had dismissed the three the moment Missandei entered her chambers. The discussion between Sansa and she was clearly not done, but clearly not going anywhere. Walking in circles would have been more productive and the Dragon Queen had battles to plan. 

***   
  


He struggled to match pace with Sansa in the twisting halls of Dragonstone. She was clearly eager to return to her chambers, most likely to write to Jon and inform Brienne of the news, he thought. He would not let her return that easily. He wanted, no, he  _ needed _ to discuss the events of last night. 

He wasn’t quite sure why the events had upset him so badly. Yes, he hated to see people upset, but it was more than that. The way Sansa had flinched at his reach. The was she had viewed him as an archer hunting his prey. He couldn’t let think that he would ever hurt her. He couldn’t let her believe he was a monster without all the facts. He couldn’t bear the idea of her hating him without just cause. 

He opened his mouth, not quite sure how to approach the subject.  _ What if it pushed it into one of her states again? What would he do then? _

Sansa’s pace slowed, as if she finally realized Tyrion was essentially running to keep up with her. “What ever happened to Shae?”

That was not the question he was expecting. Not at all. He struggled to find an answer, as an awkward silence once again sprouted between the two. What was he to say?  _ One of the only true friends you had in King’s Landing was actually your husbands whore. I do apologize Sansa, but she isn’t alive anymore. See, I strangled her with the golden chains I purchased her after finding her in bed with my father. After I killed her I put a bolt in my father’s stomach and watched as the life drained out of him. Don’t you love me now Sansa? Aren’t I the kind man that I truly believe you once thought me to be? _

She broke the awkward silence, noticing his loss for words. “I know she was your whore.” 

_ What! _ He looked up in surprise. With the help of Varys, he and Shae had taken every precaution. He had been impressed that his father and Cersei had found out, but not truly shocked. His sister and father were no strangers to the dirtiness of court. But Sansa. Sansa had been a girl of ten and four, certainly not a stranger to the dirt of King’s Landing, but a different kind of dirt. He truly had not been sure that Sansa had even known what a whore was, and for her to suspect her handmaiden and husband. He was impressed. 

He was impressed, but also worried. It was one thing to tell Sansa that he killed her handmaiden - an act of revenge perhaps. But to have killed his whore? So much for someone who didn’t want to be seen as a monster. 

“How?”

Sansa shrugged, switching back to her fast-paced walks. “I didn’t have any friends in King’s Landing”  _ you had me _ , “and I had a lot of time to observe what was before me. You and Shae were subtle, but I always notice jewelry, especially ones so finely made.” He thought back to the dozens of lockets and jewels he had gifted Shae. He’d always been subtle, but he  _ had _ caught Shae wearing the jewels outside his chambers before. How could a woman of that status afford such fine things? He still didn’t know how Sansa knew it was him though, there were dozens of lords at court able to purchase jewelry of the same grandeur desperate for a young beautiful girl to warm their beds. Sensing his confusion, Sansa explained herself further, “I used to have one of my handmaidens sleep in the room with me every so often. Usually when I had seen Joffrey.” The sentence was added on as an afterthought, as though she was embarrassed to admit she couldn’t be alone.  _ As though she needs to justify anything _ . “Shae could not often do it, as she claimed she had ‘things to do’ at night.” Tyrion winced. Could they have been anymore obvious? “But one night she did stay, and when I woke in the night…” Her voice trailed off, as though she didn’t want to finish her explanation.

“When you woke in the night from one of your night terrors,” Tyrion supplied her. This was already clearly difficult for her, she didn’t need to make it harder. 

“Yes. When I woke in the night, I heard her muttering. It was difficult to make out at first, barely a whisper, but I soon came to the realization that she had been whispering ‘my lion.’ Since Jaime was being held captive by my brother at the time, and he clearly already had… commitments to another, I knew it wasn’t him. I didn’t believe Cersei was the lion Shae was referring to, Lancel had already joined the faith, and your father didn’t seem to be the man to sleep with whores.”  _ No, my father is not the man to sleep with whores, unless he wants to punish his disgrace of a son _ . 

Gods, had he really liked being called “my lion.” The thought brought an embarrassed blush to his cheeks, and he wished Sansa had found out any other way, or had at least not heard the name. “Sansa, I-”

She waved her hand. “I was young, and she was beautiful and skilled, from what she told me, and kind. I couldn’t imagine you were to remain abstinent while married to a girl who wanted nothing to do with you.” 

_ She thought Shae was his whore during their marriage.  _ He could not, would not, let her think that. He was already ashamed of his relations with Shae  _ before _ his wedding to Sansa, he couldn’t imagine being unfaithful during their short-lived marriage. “I am quite impressed,” she kept her head forward, but Tyrion could sense the smirk that was playing across her lips. “Although you are mistaken about one thing.”

“Oh?”

“I met Shae when I fought your brother’s army, before I even came to King’s Landing and met you. She was my whore, that I will not dispute, but I ended relations with her the moment I was told by my father that you and I were to be wed. I never broke my vows Sansa.”

The smirk quickly slid off of her face. Her pace slowed. He wasn’t sure if he had ever seen her look this shocked. Even when she had discovered her brother and mother to be dead, the emotion that had overwhelmed her expression was grief, with only shadows of shock ever seen. “My apologies, I just- I just presumed that-” But why was she so surprised? Was he really viewed as that dishonorable in her eyes?  _ Of course he was _ . 

“A very fair assumption. Just not a correct one.”

“So when we were wed-” 

“When we were wed, I was wed to you, and just you. I made a promise in front of all the gods, for what they’re worth, and I made a promise to you. The Lannisters may pay their debts, but I also keep my promises.”  _ Especially to you. Especially to the ones I love. Where had that thought come from?  _ He shook it out of his mind quickly his eyes focusing back on Sansa’s face. It remained the same as before, and he almost continued before she repeated the question that had started his ramblings.

“Do you know what happened to her?”  _ Shit.  _ “I didn’t expect to see her again, not after I fled King’s Landing, but I was hoping you knew…”

_ Distract her.  _ He needed to distract her. “Yes, that was quite rude of you, leaving me in King’s Landing. I’m told it’s quite unladylike. Especially when you’re leaving with accusations of murder that  _ you _ are far more likely to have committed.” It was a playful tone, and he could tell that his estranged wife was much better at catching on to now in the halls of Dragonstone than she was in King’s Landing.

Was that blush he was seeing? “Again, my apologies, but I didn’t have a choice. Ser Dontos pulled me aside the moment Joffrey started choking, bringing me to Littlefinger’s ship. From there we sailed to the Eerie to meet with my Aunt Lysa. By the time I learned that you had been accused of my beloved betrothed-” he smiled at the sarcasm dripping from her tongue, “I was long gone.”

“And how can I know that you are not responsible for your ‘beloved betrothed’s,’ as you put it, death? You had more cause than most at court.”

“I cannot claim responsibility for Joffrey’s death, sadly, though I suppose I am complicit in it.”

Now _that_ spiked his curiosity. What was a conversation meant to distract from Shae may actually close the mystery of his nephew’s death once and for all. If only Cersei was here to witness his triumph. “How so?”  
“As I’m sure you are aware of, Joffrey had very few supporters in the King’s Landing court. Petyr Baelish and Olenna Tyrell just to name a few. A few weeks before the wedding, I was given a necklace by Ser Dontos, and he pleaded with me to wear it to the King’s wedding. Thinking nothing of it, I did. It was a delicate thing, with-”

“-with blue crystals.” He remembered. She had looked beautiful that morning, granted there wasn’t a time he could recall when Sansa Stark was not beautiful, but for that rare morning, she had seemed almost happy. Sad, of course, but Sansa Stark was always sad. But she had smiled when he had complimented her gown and had  _ almost  _ grinned during their conversation with Oberyn Martell. It was in that moment that he had decided that as soon as the war was over, and Joffrey’s reign secure, that he would take her to Dorne, to see what the South truly was, to see the Northern girl walk across the beaches with her auburn hair blowing in the wind. To see her laugh at the bright colors of the Dornish marketplace and nibble on the spicy foreign foods he would purchase for her. To watch her pick lemons from trees and perhaps even see Myrcella again. Sansa needed a friend and he wanted to see his sweet niece. Those plans had been shortly interrupted, at the expense of Joffrey’s life, and it remained one of the hundreds of things Tyrion resented his nephew for. 

She seemed shocked at his remembrance, but quickly composed herself. “With blue crystals, yes. Well, the necklace was not the heirloom he led me to believe it was, and when Olenna Tyrell approached me at the feast to fix my necklace, she broke off one of the beads. They were filled with poison, and from that point forward, Joffrey’s life was in the hands of the Queen of Thorns. The whole thing was orchestrated by Littlefinger of course, down to you being framed for Joffrey’s murder. Again, my apologies for the whole affair.”

He waved his hand, “it’s nothing truly. What man hasn’t spent months in the cells of King’s Landing.”

“Tyrion-” she truly seemed apologetic, and he immediately felt bad for japing about the entire affair. 

“Sansa. Truly. It was not your fault. And look where we are now, we’ve both done quite well for ourselves, as we’ve already established.”

With grateful eyes, she looked down at him. “Yes, we have. But that still doesn’t answer my question. What happened to Shae?”

There was no point in stalling any further. He could start conversation among conversation, and Sansa would ask her question every single time. 

“She’s dead.”

A sigh was emitted from the woman standing next to him, but she did not sound shocked. “How?”

_ He couldn’t be the monster _ . “After you left, I was put on trial for Joffrey’s death. Cersei had gathered a group of witnesses to testify against me, most paid with either gold or what was between her legs.”  _ He would not apologize for being crass _ . “Most of the witnesses were men I hardly knew, predictable. But then, they brought out Shae. She looked my father straight in the eye and spun a tail tainted with Cersei’s schemes. Sansa, it was filled with so many lies. She spoke of how you would not allow me to consummate our marriage, and so I swore that I would kill the King for you, in order to win your favor. She went on to reveal that she was my whore along with being your handmaiden, painting me to be the pervasive imp the rest of the testifiers had already accused me of being. She named you to be just as responsible for the murder as I was. She betrayed both of us.”  _ He was a monster _ . 

“The day before my execution, Varys helped free me from my cells. Before we left on a boat to Essos, I went to my father’s chambers in the Tower of the Hand. I found Shae - half-dressed atop my father’s bed. My father was on the chamber pot at the time, and before I confronted him, I woke Shae. She was wearing the gold chains I had purchased her a year or two before, a present she had rejected at the time.”  _ She had whispered my lion while reaching for my face. _ “And so I killed her. I wrapped my hands around the chains that decorated her throat and watched the life drain out of her. Then I shot my father in the stomach and watched as the great Tywin Lannister died on his chamber pot. I did not kill Joffrey, but I did kill the infamous Tywin Lannister and Shae the treacherous whore.” He had not realized the anger building up inside of him until he finished his confession. Nor had he taken a moment to look at Sansa’s face. Two mistakes. Two too many. 

It had gone blank. Her face. Truly blank. There was not a glimmer in her Tully eyes, nor was there a twitch upon her stoic face. He had never been in the Stark crypts, but he imagined the statues looked more lifelike than Sansa did right now. 

“Sansa I-”

Her strides expanded, a casual pace morphing into a slow run. He couldn’t have reached her if he tried, so instead, he watched. He watched as her grey dress billowed through the halls, her auburn hair catching the wind so that it seemed to be on fire. 

_ He was a monster _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah... that happened. is it weird that i literally get so stressed about using exclamation marks? like they literally scare me. 
> 
> an interaction between oberyn and sansa is something i was robbed of and will never forgive D&D for (i mean there's a long list of things i won't forgive them for but that's one of them) so i kinda added that in.
> 
> finally, i watched the emmys tonight and have never felt more upset in my life. i love peter so so much but i really think alfie deserved the emmy, and the fact that lena has now gone through 8 seasons of this show and hasn't won an emmy is just wrong. emilia was also robbed. sophie and maisie and all the rest did look wonderful though.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion confronts Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SO SORRY. I'VE LITERALLY BEEN WORKING ON THIS CHAPTER FOR WEEKS AND NONE OF IT WAS WORKING AND I HATE THIS CHAPTER SM BUT I ALSO LOVE IT AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU GUYS. I'M SORRY

He killed her. He killed Shae. He killed her friend. One of her  _ only _ friends. And he killed her.  _ He killed Tywin too _ , a small part of her mind reminded her, but she pushed it to the back. It didn’t matter. He had killed Shae. He killed Shae and that was all that mattered. 

She had been tricked. Every ounce of her body had been convinced that Tyrion was  _ good _ , that he was kind, but good men didn’t kill their whores and good men didn’t kill her friends. 

_ Good men killed the men who hurt her _ .

He was a monster. That’s what she told herself, as she raced through the cold halls of Dragonstone. A monster a monster a monster. She forced the words to echo throughout her body, infiltrating every ounce of trust she had held for the man. She forced it to work its way through her memories next. Monster. It blackened every smile shared between the two. Monster. It corrupted the faint laughter that Sansa could still sometimes hear in the backs of her ears. Monster. 

She had truly convinced herself that Tyrion Lannister was a good man. And yet she was wrong. Jon was a good man. Jon and Bran and Rickon and her father were good men. There were no others.   
Finally reaching her room, Sansa flung open the door, slamming it firmly behind her. Her want to see Brienne and inform her of the good news had vanished, and she was grateful that her protector wasn’t in her chamber at the moment. The mixture of broken glass and torn sheets had been cleaned up, leaving her room as sterile and cold as before. She still failed to understand how her room had transformed into the chaotic state, though it was hardly a concern at the present time. Monster. He had to be a monster. 

There was a harsh banging at her door, and before she could even open her mouth to refuse the person she already knew was Tyrion Lannister, the slab of wood swung open. 

“Sansa-”

“Leave.” She did not want to see him. She did not want to hear him. She did not want him to exist.  _ He killed Tywin too _ . He was a monster, and Sansa Stark was done with being used by the creatures that hurt her every chance they were given. 

“Sansa please, I-”

She didn’t turn to face him, and she forced her brain to ignore the pleading in his voice. It’s a trap, it’s a trap, it’s a trap. It’s always a trap. “Go.”

“I won’t.” 

The sky was pretty today, from what she could tell. Blue, with white clouds decorating it. That’s what she would focus on. The sky. Maybe the tapestry that sat behind her bed. Or the carved wooden bowl filled with underripe fruit on her table. Anything but him. She would not look at him. She was done with looking upon monsters. 

“I know you don’t want to speak to me.” He chose his words carefully, as considerate as he had the day he had told her of their engagement. 

She snorted, “since when have you been one to state the obvious?”  _ Keep your eyes on the clouds _ . 

“I know you don’t want to speak to me, but you must. Well, you musn’t, but-” he was flustered, that much was clear. “-you don’t have to speak, but you do have to listen. Just listen Sansa.”

_ I will not. I will close my ears _ . 

As if he was reading her mind, Tyrion sighed, mirroring the only sound Sansa had yet to exude. “I suppose you don’t have to listen to me either. But Sansa, please. Please listen. You don’t have to like me, once you leave Dragonstone you won’t have to see me ever again. But listen to me now.”

She knew she shouldn’t. She knew she should. Every part of her body told her a different thing. Trust him. Don’t trust him. Listen. Don’t listen. Fight. Leave. Scream. Cry.  _ Keep your eyes on the clouds _ . 

“I am not going to talk about Shae. I told you what I did to Shae, I told you what I did to my father. There’s no excuse. I do not expect you to forgive me, for I have not and will not forgive myself. She was your friend, and I had no right to take her from you. I loved her, and I had no right to take her from this world. But I will not pretend to be sorry about my father. He was a terrible man, you know that as well as anyone.” 

She did. 

He continued on, his composed speech slowly turning into a rambling sentences. “He orchestrated your mother and brother’s deaths you know, and did nothing to stop the torture of you. He was a terrible person Sansa, a terri-”

“Tyrion.”  _ Keep your eyes on the clouds _ . “I am not disputing that Tywin Lannister committed terrible atrocities, I shed no tears for him when Lord Baelish informed me of his death.” The cloud she had been focusing on flew away, and her attention suddenly turned to Tyrion’s eyes pressing her back.  _ The clouds, she must look at the clouds _ . 

“Yes of course, I just meant-”

“I know exactly who the Lord of Casterly Rock was. I do not need your help reminding me.” The statement came out harsher than she had intended, and she winced. Tywin had hurt Tyrion too, she knew that. 

“Yes. Well, as I said, I did not pursue you to talk about that.”

_ Then what?  _ She wanted to scream.  _ If you did not come here to talk about the murder of my friend, then why come at all. I’ve had enough politics for the day.  _ She wanted to be left alone.  _ No she didn’t _ .

“Sansa,” he sounded as though he was speaking a language that he himself was not sure he could understand. “Do you remember the events of last night?”

She had discussed the Dragon Queen with Brienne, then dismissed her from her chambers, insisting that she sleep.  _ Sleep Brienne, there are no monsters inside this castle. I have guards to protect me, and I need you at your best tomorrow.  _ The ever-loyal knight had protested, but Sansa had stood her ground. And then she had gone to bed. The sheets. The broken glass.  _ No. No it couldn’t have been.  _ She hadn’t had one of her episodes in months. The maester had confirmed that they had gone away. He’d sworn.  _ They way Brienne had looked at her this morning, urging her to stay behind. The way Tyrion had approached her when escorting her to Daenerys’ chambers.  _

“I went to bed.”  _ Eyes on the clouds.  _ He couldn’t know. He couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t. Her episodes were the worst kept secret in Winterfell, but the knowledge had remained in Winterfell. She  _ needed _ it to remain in Winterfell. 

“Sansa, please don’t lie, not to me.”

_ Eyes on the clouds _ . “I’m not lying.” That was true, at least. She had gone to bed, and she truly didn’t remember the events of last night. She never remembered. Even now, all she knew of her episodes were told to her by Brienne and Jon. It was though they had never happened, but the physical damage contradicted her belief everytime. 

“Sansa I came into your room last night, when I heard screaming throughout the halls. You were curled up in a ball on your bed. Sansa, I had never heard screams so deafening.”

She remembered the first time one of her episodes had occurred. They had still been at Castle Black, Jon, Brienne and she, and it had been the first night she had spent alone without a candle lit. Brienne had come running into her room, sword in hand, slamming the door open in her panic. Or that’s what she had told her at least. Sansa hadn’t woken until Brienne had shaken her awake, her eyes filled with the kind of worry she had not seen in so long. After being told what happened, Sansa had ordered Brienne and Pod to tell no one of the episodes, including Jon. She had told herself that it was to help him, he had so many other things occupying his mind that he didn’t need to worry about her as well. She repeated the statement to Brienne and Pod so many times she began to believe it. It was about protecting Jon. 

“Sansa, what was that?”  _ Look at the clouds _ .

“I do not know, Lord Tyrion. Perhaps it was a night terror. My deepest apologies for waking you.”

“Sansa.” His voice sounded even more broken than it was when Tyrion had entered the room. “I’ve witnessed your night terrors firsthand. This was not a night terror. Please don’t lie to me. I thought we were past that point.” 

_ What am I supposed to say, Tyrion? Should I tell you how Ramsay raped me and tortured me and now I wake in the night fearing that I am in his grasp once again. Would that comfort you? Should I tell you, a monster, that I have faced many monsters in my life and wanted them dead, but the thought of seeing you hurt makes me collapse all together.  _

She heard movement behind her, and soon a small man stood next to her. She glanced down at him, but his eyes were focused on the small window. “I’ve always loved watching the clouds. On warm days at Casterly Rock Jaime and I would go outside and make up stories based upon the figures we made. I would have loved to take you there Sansa. You would have loved it. The ocean, the gardens, the forests. It’s beautiful.”

“When I escaped King’s Landing, Petyr Baelish took me to the Eyrie to be sheltered with my Aunt Lysa. She wasn’t right in the head, and was afraid that Littlefinger was attracted to me, and that I would steal her husband. She tried to push me out the moon door, and Baelish saved me. He pushed her. And I lied. I lied to the lords of the Eyrie and claimed that she killed herself.” There was a pause, but Tyrion kept his eyes on the clouds. “Lord Baelish then took me to Winterfell, with the promise of safety once again. He sold me the Boltons.” The name left a bitter taste in her mouth, as she recalled her childhood home draped in banners of flayed men and filled with the faces of unsmiling ghosts. 

“More specifically he sold me to Ramsay Snow.” She refused to use his house name, his house name made him someone, and that she would not have. “There had been whispers of his cruelties, but Lord Baelish’s eyes fell deaf to the sounds. And so I was married. A Stark married to a bastard under the weirwood tree. It was a sight to see.” Sansa did not care how much Tyrion knew, she would tell her story, start to end. At least, until she could no more. Tyrion made no move to open his mouth, so she continued on. “On our wedding night he raped me. He tore open my dress and paid no mind to my screams. He made Theon watch. He kept me locked in my room during the day, and it night he came. He raped me and beat me and cut me and hurt me for his pleasure. And I was trapped.”  _ Eyes on the clouds, eyes on the clouds.  _ “He  _ raped _ me Tyrion. He hurt me more than I had ever hurt in my entire life. He pushed me down onto the bed and he-”

And his eyes left the clouds. And so did hers. His hand slipped between her limp fingers and gave a tight squeeze. 

“He hurt you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. With that her entire body fell to the floor, crumpling to the ground as if there was no life in her. Tyrion still said nothing, but wrapped her fragile body in his arms, sitting next to her. 

“Do you see that cloud?” His arm left her body, pointing at a small puff of white. “I think it looks like a falling woman.” 

Without even thinking, she let out a laugh. Not a polite laugh to complement some lord’s joke, nor was it one to diffuse the awkward situation. Sansa let out a hearty laugh that filled the almost empty room. And the Red Wolf and the Little Lion collapsed onto the stone floor, pointing at the clouds that decorated a sky full of dragons and birds and laughing until their stomachs hurt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what did ya'll think? i really tried to handle sansa's rape is a better way than the show did (not that it was very hard) and i think this was the first step. 
> 
> on a completely random note, are there any other ships you guys want me to write (for got)? i want to include gendrya later, but we're not in winterfell yet :)
> 
> i was also thinking of starting another story so that when i get stuck on this i'm still writing. i ship sansa with a concerning number of people, so fell free to leave suggestions down below:)


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DANY POV!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i even update anymore?  
> that's a secret i'll never tell  
> you know you love me  
> xoxo procrastinator

Daenerys was fuming. 

She had always been one to place the highest amount of trust into her advisors’ hands, knowing that giving them her most vulnerable secrets paid off more than it did not. And besides, who were they to tell when back in Essos?

In return, she expected that her advisors treat her as their Queen. Any information needed to be whispered into her ears first, and only her ears. It hadn’t ever been too much to ask.

Or had it? How many other secrets had Lord Varys spread, whispering the state of lords and ladies to anyone who would listen? Had Cersei known of her plans to settle in Dragonstone before she had set sail on her ships? Or had she known even before the Spider had suggested the idea? Perhaps all the noble lords and ladies of Westeros had known Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen was coming to Westeros. They would laugh behind their hands as she played the role of the fool, just as the Masters had. 

Maybe Cersei was planning right now, a strategic defense against an offense Daenerys had yet to plan. Euron Greyjoy could have a fleet hidden just out of her reach, ready to disseminate her ships the moment she put them to use. That’s what spiders do, she thought. They spin their webs, and then, before I am able to see them, they spread them out for the world to see. With the help of his little birds, every person of Westeros could know her plans before they were even made. Or worse. The children with feathered steps and beady eyes could be spreading tales of Daenerys’ great cruelty. Of her burning those who disagreed with her alive. What else could they know to believe? And if Varys was spreading his lies, then who else? 

She had no way of knowing whether or not Ellaria Sand had Dorne’s support at all. For all Dany knew, Ellaria Sand could be a senseless imposter, claiming to be avenging the one she loved. Of course, that’s why she had her advisors. To verify. Unless they were working against her as well. 

Olenna Tyrell. Who knew where her allegiances truly lay. With the North? With Cersei? With herself was the most likely option, but what ruler was the most like to protect the Tyrells? 

Theon’s allegiances clearly still lay with Sansa. That much was clear by the one interaction Daenerys had witnessed. She had known, obviously, that Theon cared for the Stark girl. It was clear in every ounce of his being when she was brought up in a conversation. He made no effort to hide it. Still, the unwavering look of love in Theon’s eyes that was reflected in Sansa’s blue ones made Daenerys jealous. And scared. She knew how much power love could hold, she had seen it in the eyes of Grey Worm as he struck down her enemies. People could do terrible things for the ones they loved. 

And Tyrion. Tyrion could be spouting every word she says into Cersei’s ear. Or the North’s. He knew everything. Every plan, every weakness, every move she made was made with his knowledge. 

There was a knocking at her door. 

“Your Grace?”

Missandei stepped into the light provided by the windows, her dark attire complementing the gloomy halls of Dragonstone. Almost instantly, Daenerys regretted sending away her friend in the first place. Her voice of reason was always comforting, especially in times like these. Missandei was the only person Daenerys could trust. 

“Yes?”

“The council is ready, as you asked.”

She had almost forgotten about the meeting she had planned for today. They were meant to discuss further battle plans now that they had the North’s allegiance. Of course, that had been when Daenerys had thought she had the North.  _ Now what was she to do?  _ She certainly wasn’t going to plead with the Stark girl, at least not in front of her advisors. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for earlier.”

“There is nothing to apologize for, your Grace.” 

“Except there is. Varys was out of line, but you had no part in it.”

Missandei smiled, something that graced her lips far less than Daenerys would like. “Would you like me to call off the meeting for now?”

The thought was tempting. “No, I’ll be there shortly.”

“Yes your Grace,” Missandei turned to leave, but Daenerys could not stop herself. “Wait.” Missandei turned, her head tilted. “What do you think of this Sansa Stark.”

Her friend paused, stepping closer to her. “I haven’t spent much time with her.”

“And?”

“She’s intelligent.”

Daenerys had known that. The moment she had looked in Sansa’s eyes she knew that the Daughter of Winterfell was intelligent. Her expression seemed to know how to form before words even exited Daenerys’ mouth. “What else?”   
“She’s cold.”

“I would expect nothing less from a daughter of the north.” Daenerys couldn’t help but recall the look of pure ecstasy on Sansa’s face when Varys had informed her of her sister and brother’s well-being. Yes, Sansa Stark seemed cold, but her heart had clearly not frozen over yet. 

“She’s- she’s quite beautiful your Grace.”

That she was. With her icy eyes and auburn hair, Sansa Stark reminded Daenerys of a frozen flame. Delicate. No, delicate was not the right word. Sansa did not look as though she would break into a thousand pieces at a harsh word thrown her way. Once, perhaps, from the wayTyrion had described her, but not anymore. 

Ethereal. Ethereal was the only world Daenerys could seem to find to describe Winterfell’s Daughter. As though she was not human, but so distinctly human at the same time. A walking contradiction. Which of course, only made her more beautiful.

Missandei opened her mouth, but hesitated, seemingly nervous to carry on. 

“Yes?”

“Lord Tyrion seems quite infatuated with her.” 

“Does he?” 

Theon didn't have much power. His love for Sansa scared Daenerys, but she knew it was unlikely to do any true harm. Yara controlled the iron-born forces and Theon seemed to follow her around like a lost puppy. Tyrion, on the other hand... 

“Well, we shouldn’t keep the council waiting.”

With that, Daenerys laced her arm through Missandei’s, nodding at the Unsullied that stood upright at her door.  _ She would have to keep an eye on the Red Wolf and the Little Lion _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this was my first time writing from dany's pov so feedback on that would be amazing! i love her character i just can't connect with it as much   
> i really am sorry i haven't been updating, but i was just really stuck and super busy. i did just start planning a new fic (daensa modern au) which i'll hopefully be posting soon, so if you have any interest in that i'd love for feedback!  
> my love for sansa and sophie really popped out in this chapter.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry is all i can really say at this point

Grey Worm’s stoic face disrupted Tyrion and Sansa’s mixture of laughter and tears. “The council is waiting.”

Within seconds, Sansa composed herself, pulling herself off of the ground before Tyrion even noticed that his arms were no longer wrapped around her body. Her tearstained face turned into a piece of glass once again, as she reached out to smooth out the folds in her dress. Tyrion was still sitting on the ground, mid-laugh as the Northern girl’s voice began to fill the room. “Thank you…”

Grey Worm stared at her blankly, his eyes trained directly at hers. 

“Grey Worm,” Tyrion supplied, groaning as he pushed himself up from the floor. His recovery was far less graceful than Sansa’s, and the Unsullied’s eyes watched him, unamused.

“Thank you Grey Worm, you must forgive us for keeping them waiting. Would you please inform Lady Targaryen that Lord Tyrion and I are on our way?”

“The Queen has asked me to escort you to the room.” Grey Worm’s face remained as stoic as before, all trace of emotion absent from his voice. 

Sansa’s smile stood as firmly as before, and Tyrion himself wasn’t sure whether or not she was upset. “How kind of her. It is such a large castle, and I would hate to get lost.” 

_ A smart woman _ . Tyrion knew that, of course, but he was still impressed. In his opinion, there were three types of intelligent people across the world. There were those who were simply intelligent: maesters, people who knew more than Tyrion would ever know, but didn’t know how to use their knowledge for the betterment of themselves. Then there were the people who used their intelligence to make people fear them. They could have absolutely nothing to actually harm someone, but could make an entire continent panic at the sound of their name. Cersei, or his father were the people who came to mind when he thought of this, but Tyrion knew that there were far too many lords and ladies who used the same tactics, just to a lesser extreme. Finally, there were the intelligent people that made people love them. They used love as their weapon of choice, not fear. They forced people to adore them, leaving the mind very little choice in the matter. This was Margaery Tyrell, it had been clear that fear was not her weapon of choice from miles away, Daenerys, and now, evidently, Sansa. 

Tyrion was still unsure of where he fell on the spectrum. He did not believe he was as ruthless as his father or Cersei, but he was no Margaery Tyrell or Mhysa either. He had felt a sense of success as he watched hundreds of Stannis’ soldiers die, the green fire engulfing them. He had strangled Shae and murdered his father without an ounce of regret in the moment. Yet, he took no joy in watching others suffer. He did his best to prevent death _ , didn’t he _ ? 

Whatever trace of sarcasm Sansa held in her voice fell deaf to Grey Worm’s ears. He nodded, and with that, Sansa and Tyrion left the room filled with clouds into a world filled with dragons and vipers and krakens. 

***

All sets of eyes fell onto the trio as they entered the room. Theon sat next to Yara, his head popping up the moment the door had creaked. Yara’s grey eyes soon followed her brother’s, but Tyrion could sense her indifference without it being shown across her face. Ellaria Sand sat in the opposite corner of the room, her expression mirroring Yara’s, though she failed to make her eyes say the same. Missandei stood, every-loyal, at Daenerys’ side, her eyes passing over both Tyrion and Sansa, landing on Grey Worm. A small smile formed, and Tyrion could hear Grey Worm shifting his position. 

“So kind of you to finally grace us with your presence, Lady Stark.”

The Queen of Thorns remained sitting, her stern stare falling right past Tyrion to Sansa’s icy eyes. She remained sitting, a sign that with anyone else could be taken as disrespect. Of course, Olenna Tyrell could mean disrespect, she probably did, but no one in the right mind would call her out on it. 

Tyrion watched as Sansa’s eyes scanned the room. A faint smile appeared on her face when she saw Theon, causing a pang of jealousy to surge through his body.  _ Where had that come from _ ? 

“Lady Olenna, my apologies if we kept you waiting. It’s such a large castle and I’m afraid I don’t know my way around quite yet. Lady Ellaria, Lady Greyjoy, Lady Targaryen.” Sansa made a small bow to each of the women, and Tyrion couldn’t help but notice Olenna’s slight smirk as Sansa addressed Daenerys.  _ This certainly would be interesting. _

Missandei began to speak, “ _ Queen  _ Daenerys-” but Daenerys cut her off with a simple hand being placed upon hers. She clearly wanted to avoid conflict, at least before the meeting had even begun. 

“I suspect you all know Lady Stark, so no introduction is needed.” Dany’s eyes pierced Tyrion’s forehead, and begrudgingly, he made his way over to his Queen. 

“Lady Greyjoy, I do not believe we have been introduced.” Sansa said, ignoring Daenerys’ previous statement. Tyrion watched as she quickly made her way over to Yara, the two firmly shaking hands in a way Tyrion had never seen. 

Yara leaned in and whispered something to the woman, and though the words were indistinguishable, Tyrion couldn’t help but notice the small blush creeping up Sansa’s cheeks. She pulled away, walking over to the empty stone chair. 

The silence was long, awkward, with nothing to fill the room except for an occasional shift of a chair, or the clearing of the throat. Sansa’s blue eyes darted between Olenna’s, Ellaria’s, and Yara’s, and Daenerys’ eyes shifted between Tyrion and Sansa.

“Well, the rest of you may be young, but I am not. Shall we open our mouths and begin or will you simply carry out conversations with your eyes for the rest of our time together?” 

Startled by her bluntness, although Tyrion was not quite sure why at this point, Daenerys began to pull out her chair, and everyone else followed her lead. “Yes, of course, every second we waste is given to Cersei. 

Our main concern at the moment is, of course, King’s Landing. In order to secure my rightful reign, I need the Iron Throne.” Tyrion did not miss the use of the word “our,” nor did any other of the women who held kingdoms in their fingers. 

“Our? So the North has agreed to join our cause?” Ellaria Sand questioned, her voice not withholding any surprise. 

Before Daenerys was able to open her mouth, Sansa jumped in, leaning forward into the table. “No. The North  _ will  _ remain an independent kingdom, and will not bend the knee. That much I have made clear both to Lady Targaryen and now all of you who sit with me.”

“And how, may I ask, does the North plan to sustain itself, without  _ our  _ help?” Olenna questioned, mirroring Sansa’s movements as she leaned into the table. “As I recall, from my many,  _ many _ geography lessons, the North barely has enough food to feed Winterfell, much less all of its castles and villages. Without the help of  _ at least _ Highgarden, your people will starve before winter is over.”

“It is true that we have not reached an agreement… yet,” the threat was clear, “but that does not mean the North is entirely unwilling to aid us in our fight against Cersei, at least I would assume.” Daenerys glanced down at Tyrion, and then back at Sansa. “We have a common enemy, as I’m sure Lady Stark holds no fond feelings for your sister, Tyrion.” 

No, he doubted she did. Sansa likely had suffered worse in the hands of his dear sister than any other person, living or dead. She had enabled Joffrey’s torments, sometimes even encouraging them. 

“My feelings, however strong they may be, hold no weight in the matter.” Sansa’s voice was firm, and for a second, it sounded as though a auburn-haired version of the Targaryen Queen was speaking. “My interest is the North, and the North is in the most danger, at least for the time-being.”

“How so?” Yara cocked head, intrigued. 

Tyrion couldn’t help but notice Sansa’s eyes shift towards him before they met Yara’s once again. She adjusted herself, straightening her head. “My Father was never a liar, as I’m sure you are all quite aware. Winter is coming may be our house words, but in the North’s situation, they must be taken quite literally. The King in the North, my brother, served as the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and bears witness to the tale I am-”

“Spit it out already, we’ve already established I do not have much time,” Olenna Tyrell demanded, irritated with Sansa’s ramblings.

“The dead are coming to kill us all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am the kind of writer that i hate, i'm so sorry for such inconsistent updates. so much has been going on in my personal life that i just had to push this to the back burner. 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and i'd love to know what ya'll think! also! i created a tumblr, so if you ever want some serious salt, you can find me at feminist-sansa


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Olenna did not restrain her snort, “I knew it could get boring in the North, but this? Child, do you truly take us for fools?”

Tyrion’s grimace matched Theon’s as they both looked around the room, observing the disbelief across every single face.  _ She needs to stop introducing it like this _ .

Sansa seemed to realize that as well, as she ignored Olenna’s comment, leaving no room for the others to speak. “It sounds ridiculous. I myself held little belief for the story when my brother told me. But I swear to all of you here, it’s true. An army of the dead is marching north of The Wall, and soon they will reach the only barrier stopping them from killing us all. Once they tear down The Wall, and trust me, they will, they will not stop with the North. Every man, woman, and child they kill will simply add to their army. Every life they take only aids them more. They have no emotion, no mind. They are senseless killer, and for what they lack in efficiency and skill, they make up for in sheer numbers.” Daenerys held a small smirk on her face, and her eyes were celebrating a success she had yet to win. She knew it was foolishness. 

“Tell me, have you ever seen these, these monsters?” Ellaria Sand leaned into the table, but her face was just as mocking as the women around her.

“No.” Sansa did not fumble her words, nor did she look ashamed to admit her lack of witness. “No, I’m afraid to inform you that I have never seen one of these creatures. You see, they have not crossed The Wall, at least, not yet, and I, like all of us here, have not ventured beyond Castle Black. My brother, has seen thousands, but if you do not believe me, I do not expect you to believe him. But let me ask you this, why would I lie?”

_ Why would she lie _ ? Tyrion hated to admit it, but he had spent far too much time contemplating the answers. It’s not necessarily that Sansa Stark was a liar, but she had not proven to be a candid person either, and on top of that, the dead? Still, he wanted to believe her. He did. He just couldn’t. Not openly at least, not until he had the support of Daenerys. 

“Perhaps you want to divert our attention,” Yara speculated aloud, Theon’s head turning towards her. “You don’t know this Queen, you know Cersei. She hasn’t done anything to the North yet, why would she start? By ensuring that Cersei remains in power, you and your brother ensure the North’s independence.” 

It was solid logic. Tyrion couldn’t blame her for thinking it, he himself would have agreed if he had not known the North. Of course, he didn’t know the North. No outsider truly could, especially a Lannister. But he knew Sansa. At least enough. Enough to know that she was not the type of woman to leave hundreds of thousands at the merciless hands of Cersei simply to allow the North to remain free. No, that wasn’t her, and it certainly wasn’t Jon Snow. 

“Or,” Yara continued, clearly still mistrustful, “you could be working with Cersei, right now, as we speak.” A spark flashed in Daenerys’ eyes, vanishing almost before Tyrion could catch a glimpse. “We do not know you, this could all be some elaborate plot to watch our Queen crumble before her reign begins.”

“Yes, it could be. But it’s not. Although I will not let Cersei’s character play into my decision to invade King’s Landing, it does stop me from ever communicating with her. That woman tortured me both mentally and physically, and still has a bounty on my head. She wants me dead”

“For what?” Missandei’s question was the first sentence she had spoken since the meeting had begun, and seemed to hold no deeper meaning. She just simply seemed curious. 

“She believes that I had a hand in her son’s murder.” Sansa waved a hand, brushing it aside. “In reality, I seem to be the only one that didn’t, but that’s besides the point. Personal matters aside, I hold no hatred to the people of King’s Landing, nor those of the surrounding cities and towns. They will suffer under Cersei’s rule, and I would not wish that on anyone.  _ Your  _ Queen seems just, and I trust all of you have made the right decision by placing your faith in her.” He hoped so. “However, I am the daughter of Eddard Stark. My loyalty and priorities lie to the North, and the North is in the most urgent danger at the moment.”

“Yes, you are the daughter of Ned Stark, bless the poor man.” Olenna placed a hand on her heart before leaning into the table once more.He couldn’t tell if it was mockery or not.  _ It probably was _ . She seemed as though she wanted to continue, but couldn’t find the right words, a rarity for the woman. 

Daenerys picked up where Olenna’s words trailed off, “we do not doubt your honor, Lady Stark, but we simply cannot believe the fables you are telling us. No matter how honorable you claim your father to be.”

“It’s not a claim.” Theon’s words were spoken in a wobbly tone, as though every syllable was a question. Daenerys’ eyes shifted to him for the first time during the meeting, followed by everyone else in the room. Yara failed to conceal her shock, though he thought he caught a ghost of a smile gracing both her and Sansa’s face. “I- I only mean that- I only mean that there is no question of Ned Stark’s honor.” 

“That’s besides the point,” Irritated, Daenerys shifted the topic once again. “The point is, I will not waste our resources on a threat told as a bedtime story to children across Westeros.” 

“The threat is real. And the children you claim this story is told to, they will become part of the army of the dead if you continue you disbelief in the threat.” Tyrion could tell Sansa was trying not to yell, but everytime someone denied her claim, a small bit of her courtesy chipped away. Soon, she would be a bare knight once more, and then what would protect her from the words hurled her way? “I swear it.”

“You swear it on what?” Ellaria did nothing to hide her annoyance, there were better things that she could be doing.  _ There were better things that everyone could be doing _ . Negotiations needed to be planned, and battle strategies needed to be formed. Daenerys had been speaking the truth when saying every second they wasted was a second given to Cersei. It took all Tyrion could do to bite his tongue and not interrupt the meeting that roamed in circles before him. 

“The old gods and the new.”

Ellaria snorted, and Yara did nothing to hide the look of amusement on her face. Even Daenerys made little attempt to hide her smile. 

However, none of their looks matched the humor that danced across Olenna’s tired face. “If every vow made to the old gods and the new was kept, there would be a far more bloodshed and far fewer bastards.”

Daenerys tried a more delicate approach, still failing to keep the mockery out of her voice. “Lady Stark, I myself, do not believe in the gods, nor does Lord Tyrion.” He nodded his head in confirmation. The gods had done him no favors since the day he had been born, they had failed to ever make their divine presence known. Besides, if the gods did exist, they were crueler than any man, and why choose to believe in that? Daenerys continued, her green eyes staring straight into Sansa’s. “Lady Greyjoy and her brother follow the Drowned God, leaving only Lady Tyrell and Ellaria to follow the faiths you just swore upon.”

Before Sansa could defend herself, once again, Yara cut her off. “If these monsters you speak of are real, how would you kill them?” The question was progress, at least in Tyrion’s eyes. He had been wondering the same thing himself, with the fear of accepting their existence preventing him from asking the question. 

“They can be killed in two ways. Fire, and dragonglass, my reasons for coming here in the first place. I do believe you have an excess of fire at your disposal.”

“It does not matter how you kill them. Can’t you all see? These monsters are simply a story told one too many times, a way for the men of the Night’s Watch to spend their lonely knights.” Slouched in her chair, Olenna was irritated. Not the humourous kind of irritated that she often exuded, but the kind of irritated where at any moment, she may snap the closest thing in her reach in half. Thankfully, it was a cup. “Lady Stark,” she turned to directly address Sansa, who Tyrion was fairly sure had bitten a hole in her tongue from biting it so hard. “You could swear the validity of this tale on every god known to man, from Westeros to Essos, it still will not make me believe its existence.”

Tyrion saw the gleam in her Tully blue eyes. She readjusted her shoulders, growing so that she was the tallest in the room once more. Tyrion recognized the expression, he’d seen it in his siblings’ faces thousands of times. It was the look of knowing you had won. “I swear that this threat exists. I swear it on the graves of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North. I swear it on the grave of Catelyn Tully, the honorable daughter of Hoster Tully. I swear it on the grave of my brother, Robb Stark, King of the North. I swear it on the grave of Rickon Stark, a boy who died far too early and far too cruelly. I swear it on every single person that has been taken from me, if this threat goes ignored, there will be no kingdom for you to rule over.” 

Shock rippled through Tyrion’s body. The Queen of Thorns cocked her head. “Well…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was a super dialogue heavy chapter, so i'm sorry that there wasn't a lot of internal thought. i really struggled while writing this chapter, because i genuinely didn't know how sansa was going to get dany and the rest to believe her. however, i ended up being really happy with how this chapter turned out. 
> 
> in other news, FeniceDiFuoco just started posting her story "Tales from the Rock" and it's AMAZING. like i love it so so so so so so so so so much, so if your looking for some more sanrion content or honestly just some amazing writing, go check it out!
> 
> anyways, i hope to have a daensa modern au coming soon, and i'd love to know what y'all thought about this chapter or the daensa relationship.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_ Idiot _ . She had no proof. She  _ knew  _ she had no proof. And yet, Sansa kept reciting the words Jon had sworn to her. A trained bird. Perhaps Sandor Clegane was right. Perhaps reciting silly little songs that were whispered in her ear was all she was good for. And now she looked like a fool in front of a room full of dangerous animals. Olenna Tyrell had taken no measures to hide her smirk, and Sansa had  _ still  _ kept talking. Spinning tales of the dead and mass destruction when she herself had held back a laugh when Jon had told her. She had sworn upon the graves of the dead when she herself didn’t fully believe the story. 

_ It’s a great sin to lie, and an even greater to swear upon the names of the dead in uncertainty.  _ Septa Mordane’s words echoed through Sansa’s head, and she remembered thinking of Arya and her wickedness when her Septa had spoken the words. Jon could be lying, it could all be one great scheme to take down the last of the Starks. With Sansa here in Dragonstone, Jon’s claim to the Northern throne became stronger, and if Sansa proved herself to be untrustworthy, Daenerys could march on King’s Landing immediately, and with enough luck, she and Cersei would mutually destroy each other. Who’s to say what he learned in the Night’s Watch. 

_ We have to trust each other _ . 

Jon’s words cleanly broke through Sansa’s doubts. Jon Snow wasn’t a liar. He was honest, often to a fault, but honest. If he claimed the dead were real, then they were real. 

“You truly believe these monsters to be real?” The voice of Olenna Tyrell was sharp, but less mocking than before. The dead had truly convinced her. 

All Sansa could do was nod her head. 

Yara looked thoughtful as well, but Sansa could tell she didn’t truly care. All she wanted were the Iron Islands, it didn’t matter how she achieved her goals. 

“You can’t truly believe her!” Daenerys made no move to hide her thoughts: she was incredulous. Sansa couldn’t blame her, not really, but still, she couldn’t help but feel triumphant. 

“I can’t truly believe anyone,” Olenna replied, raising an eyebrow. She was clearly not impressed with her Queen’s outburst. “But yes, I trust this girl’s words to the best of my ability. She’s telling the truth.”

“It’s the dead. The  _ dead _ . Such a thing is impossible, no more than a bedtime tale for children”

“So were dragons.” Ellaria Sand tilted her head towards Daenerys, her eyes displaying her irritation. “I told my daughters of the dragons Vhagar and Meraxes almost every night when they were younger.” Sansa recalled the dark haired girls she had seen around corners at Dragonstone, with coal-colored hair like the Dothraki, but eyes that mirrored Oberyn Martell’s almost exactly. They didn’t seem like the people that would enjoy stories, but then again, neither did she, at least now. “People love to pretend magic and bedtime tales aren’t real,” Ellaria continued, “I did the same… Until I saw your dragons.”

As if on cue, a dark shadow spread across the already dimly lit room. The dragon’s wing covered most of the window, and Sansa was bewitched by its leathery wings that seemed to spread over the entire sky, like a dark cloud. She glanced at Tyrion, and allowed a small smile to reach her face as she saw that he was just as enchanted as she, though he had probably seen the beast hundreds of times before. 

“So you expect me to leave the one place in Westeros that is held by my armies for a tale that could possibly hold some threat?” The idea was absurd, and Sansa understood Daenerys’ tone. Even if she did know for certain that the dead were truly a danger, they were not a direct threat to her. Sansa would have warned Jon not to act, so why should she expect anything different? 

Tyrion seemed to realize the absurdity of Sansa’s request as well, and his eyes left the dragon’s wings. “No, we will not abandon Dragonstone.” A wave of hurt flashed through Sansa. She had not expected Daenerys to allow her request to become reality, but she had hoped that Tyrion would side with her, if only mildly. He seemed to sense her feelings of betrayal, but continued on. “No, you my Queen, will remain here with the rest of your army. I would not expect anyone, nor do I assume that the King in the North expects people to believe his warnings, much less abandon their hopes and dreams for the dead. In order to fully know whether Lady Stark speaks the truth, I suggest that you send a small party of those loyal to you with Lady Stark to investigate these claims further. They can then write to you, and from there, you can decide to send your armies to aide Jon Snow in his supposed war. Additionally, I suggest you send an even smaller party to King’s Landing, to meet with my brother.”

Missandei drew a sharp breath, and Sansa herself was shocked. It was no secret that Jaime Lannister had sided with his sister after the death of Tywin Lannister, nor was it a secret that Daenerys Targaryen hated Lannisters. The idea was risky, but smart. 

“Your brother?” The Queen’s voice was cold at best, and Sansa could hear her trying not to scream. “You want me to recruit the man who murdered my father to our cause?”  
“Yes.” Tyrion looked the woman straight in the eyes, and Olenna leaned in intently. “You cannot win this war without more Westerosi strategists, and Jaime is one of the best. Men that you wish to lead will follow him, more than they will ever follow Grey Worm or some Dothraki horse lord. Besides, he holds more information to Cersei’s plans than any other man or woman in all of Westeros.” _And Jaime leaving Cersei would hurt her more than three dragons ever would._ The words were left unspoken, but they rang clearly throughout the room. 

“And who, Lord Tyrion, would you suggest be members of these two parties?” Yara seemed to match Daenerys’ levels of disbelief, and clearly was not volunteering herself. 

“Well, I suggest that Theon Greyjoy, Olenna Tyrell, and I should venture North with Lady Stark and her men.”

A snort escaped Olenna’s mouth before Tyrion could even finish his sentence. “Why would I want to go to a freezing hell such as the North?”

“Because you Queen commands it.” Daenerys’ words were firm, and though she still seemed irritated, she liked Tyrion’s idea. Sansa considered the group. She adored Theon, and trusted him more than Jon, but he would be no help in persuading the Dragon Queen, Daenerys already saw him as an ally to Sansa. The Queen of Thorns would be difficult, but an interesting traveling companion, though she was scared to see Olenna react to Jon’s complete lack of political abilities. And Tyrion. A rush of excitement filled her as she thought of Tyrion in her home, a place that she considered the safest part of Westeros. She somehow could and couldn’t imagine the small man standing in the Great Hall or in the courtyard, and she resisted the urge to smile when thinking of him seeing her siblings once more. 

“Humph,” but the Queen of Thorns said no more. 

“And for King’s Landing?” Daenerys asked.  
Sansa’s mind raced in an attempt to figure out who Tyrion would choose. Ellaria was a definite no, after Myrcella’s death, Cersei would likely kill any Dornishman that stepped foot in King’s Landing, and honestly, Sansa couldn’t blame her. She had been quite saddened when she heard the news of Myrcella’s passing, too many innocents have died at the hands of misplaced revenge. Yara was also a definite no, with rumors of Euron Greyjoy becoming close with Cersei ensured the demise of any Greyjoy to step foot in King’s Landing.

“Brienne of Tarth.” The woman’s blue eyes widened, and she looked panicked, although she quickly regained her composure. 

Words rushed out of her mouth before Tyrion could finish, “my place is beside Lady Stark. I have no business in King’s Landing, nor with Jaime Lannister.” 

“My Lady, forgive me, but that’s not quite true. From what my brother has told me, you have saved his life on multiple occasions.”

“Out of necessity,” she protested. “I followed Catelyn Stark’s orders, that’s all.” Sansa recalled Brienne’s pleading to go to the Riverlands, and how she spoke of being able to convince Jaime Lannister to return home. She also recalled Joffrey’s wedding, and how Jaime had gazed at Brienne as if she was the only star in the sky, despite the fact that his sister stood mere feet from him. 

“You should go.” Brienne turned to face Sansa, blush slowly creeping up her cheeks. 

“My Lady, my duty is to protect you. I am unable to do that if I am in King’s Landing.”

“Yes, your duty is to protect me. And if the dead come, or if Cersei wins, there will be no one to protect anyone. You are the only one here that can talk sense into Jaime Lannister, you and I both know this. If he joins Daenerys and foils Cersei’s plans, you will have done a better job protecting me than you ever could have at my side.” The almost-knight bowed her head, and though she seemed displeased, her arguments ceased. 

“Then it’s decided.” Daenerys stood, and the rest followed suit, “Tyrion, if I may speak with you more a minute. You too Brienne.”

Brienne turned to Sansa, and she smiled, nodding her head. “I’ll meet you back in my chambers.”

Brienne nodded and approached the table once more, taking care to choose the furthest seat from both Tyrion and the Dragon Queen. Noticing Theon lagging behind, Sansa rushed to meet him. Silently, the two left the room with a small smile, though Sansa could feel Tyrion’s green eyes on her back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! i was struggling to find inspiration over break, but hopefully i'll update more consistently now.
> 
> i uh, also made an instagram (editing account) so y'all ever want to follow me on there that would be pretty cool. feel free to dm suggestions or questions whenerver at @alayne_stxne


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